Trinity
by Oceanbourne
Summary: The destruction of a popular bar in the Institute of War propels Irelia into the midst of a dark campaign led by the Institute to sabotage its own champions. Jax had suspected this from the start, but what can he do to stop it?
1. The Duel

The musty scent of dust threatened to reawaken his allergies. Senior Summoner Garrow futilely waved a hand across his face in an attempt to remove any unwanted particles from the vicinity of his nose and continued to trace his old pen over the ink-laden words of the scroll, crossing out a word here and there and replacing it with one more suitable to his eyes.

Garrow had low hopes for the success of a "League of Legends," as the High Councillor put it and even less faith in the integrity of the beings chosen to represent it. He failed to see what sort of virtue an animated monolith taken from some faraway planet could possibly bring to the table, yet he kept his robes draped over his face and continued to spend his time editing. The mind-numbing task which cost him countless hours poring over lengthy documents hardly provided any meaningful entertainment, but he had found his vocation over thirty years ago and chose to stick with it till the end. Sometimes, if the weather for that day and his respective mood aligned just right, he almost found an inner serenity in his work.

The door on the far end of the room slammed open, scraping against the wall despite Garrow's best efforts to keep the room unblemished. They did not own the office, and he would have to compensate any damage caused to it during their tenure from out of his own pocket. The contours of his face tightened into a frown as he looked up from his study and found the summoner who shared the working space with him, a sandy-haired youth who seemed more energetic today than usual.

"Summoner Garrow, did you watch the match earlier this morning? I've never seen a man fight like that!" a youthful voice rang out.

"I haven't." Garrow turned his attention back towards his document. He cared little for actually observing the battles between the oddball fighters, dismissing it as no more than some barbaric spectacle to appeal the simple-minded. "I do not waste time on gladiatorial cage fights, Stefen. The Fleshing more than satisfied my tastes."

The younger man gave him a sour frown. "But people actually die in the Fleshing, Garrow. The High Council has done something completely different from those death matches down in Noxus. Here, combatants can actually prove their mettle fighting as fiercely as they can without worrying about the quandary that is their own mortality. And that one man sure proved he belongs here." Stefen threw a stack of papers onto the older man's already crowded desk, no doubt more documents to examine. "Look at that. Not two hours have gone by and the High Councillor's already issued a restriction on weapons."

Garrow lifted the first document to his eyes, adjusting his spectacles to read the long, flowing writing, a trademark of Councillor Relivash. "Use of the Rageblade upon the Fields of Justice is prohibited until further testing by the Research &amp; Development Department." He set aside the manuscript after a while, the dull look on his face showing his indifference.

"Don't tell me you're not impressed!" Stefen exclaimed. "Bah, you don't seem to react to anything. Guinsoo, on the other hand.. oh, he won't be pleased. Well, I'm off again. Celica - I mean, Summoner Millein wants me to help her conduct experiments with the steam golem. It's a real wonder, that Zaunite invention. Anyways, I'll see you later!" The door slammed shut, a sound which made Garrow cringe in frustration. He put a hand to his head, sighing in frustration at the lack of seriousness with which his coworker acted, treating the daily events at the Institute like some kind of amusement park. Garrow even doubted the boy's romantic quest would make any headway - the girl belonged to an influential family of Piltover and her parents always looked to set her up with some up-and-coming inventor, not some errand boy who had just upgraded from his previous slot as an intern for the Institute.

Picking up the paper which Stefen had indicated to him earlier, he took a closer look at the document. The mercenary who had utilized the Rageblade had racked up an impressive scoreline on the Fields, surprising even his summoner when the three-man ambush set up by the opposing team turned sour when the mercenary simply turned on them and methodically eradicated them. Even the irksome Garrow had to acknowledge the man's skill. Still, he wrote it off as just another prizefighter, once again tossing the request aside. He would get to proofreading the document when its time came.

For him, Senior Summoner Garrow, it was time to get back to work.

* * *

Veterans called it "the island." Though one of the oldest members of the League himself, he had not come up with the name; rather, the demigod of the sands had first brought it up in casual conversation, and it found its way into the vernacular of the champions. Hidden away from the commotion which filled the rift, the well-worn path sparsely patched with grass didn't attract many visitors, but that was exactly why its denizens preferred its location. The old haunts seemed to attract veterans of battle, weary souls whose eyes looked generations older than the bodies in which they resided.

Twirling his weapon around his fingers, he smiled to himself. It had graced him with a thousand victories on the Fields, and he could feel it itch for more. He walked forward onto the familiar rough field, an amused expression lying under the hood which had covered his face since his first day fighting on the Fields of Justice, and quietly strode into the thickets bordering the side of the narrow corridor. He watched his opponent take her first steps into the area, hesitant but unafraid. From the cover of the bushes, his blue eyes knew their observance would not be returned for a brief few seconds. A quick calculation revealed that she did in fact spend a couple of seconds aiding the enemy jungler through the first clear of the jungle camps, and his eyes acknowledged this with the confidence to know that no unwanted disturbance would pass by the area for quite some time. That was perfectly fine, as he never liked the concept of a person sneaking around the trees and bushes, interfering with the natural progression. Nothing to lay testament to their bout of single combat besides the earth beneath their feet, the sky above their head, and the familiar feel of the lamppost. The halcyon atmosphere provided the components he required for him to enjoy their contest – a true duel.

A small smirk emerged on his unseen lips as he emerged from the thicket, weapon in hand.

"Bring it on."

* * *

The bladesman expressed his gratitude, and she left his company with confidence in his abilities and her own but a shade of doubt in her allies'. "You need only to call for me, and I shall lend you my aid," he would promise before every match, but after many instances of partnering up on the rift, she knew his actual strategy would waver quite significantly. The master of the Wuju style enjoyed traipsing around the jungle, defeating the monsters which lurked in its shadows, but his zeal for strengthening himself came at the cost of leaving his allies to fend for himself. The enemy jungler would find their flanks unopposed and often tilt the state of the game into their side's favor as the swordsman focused on defeating each set of monsters, occasionally wandering towards the dragon's den and slaying the monster by himself. Often, the misunderstanding between her countryman and their allies led to complaining and the eventual loss of the game when their team began to fall behind, but if capable teammates could keep the game in equilibrium long enough, she could testify for the strength he possessed when he deemed his training in the jungle sufficient. Entire enemy teams would go fall to his sword in the blink of an eye, and she could not even follow his agile movements as he extended his fury towards the enemies' towers and eventually their nexus. She deeply hoped she would see the latter take place.

She expected her slightly tardy arrival to mean that her opponent would have a slight edge to start the lane, but surprisingly she didn't see the presence of anyone else besides the minions who mindlessly pelted each other with small particles of energy. Warily eyeing the brush, she walked over to them and commanded her blades to swipe at them to see if she could take down a few early. Any advantage, however small, might make the difference in the long run.

As the first of her own minions was about to fall, however, a hooded figure swiftly made its entrance from out of the bushes hugging the end of the lane. After quickly felling the minion with a simple thwack of his weapon, he immediately turned on her, swinging the lamppost at her with more poise than one would expect a person would have wielding such a bizarre weapon. Not willing to let his aggression go unanswered, she returned the favor, willing the blades floating at her side to attack her enemy and wounding him with two quick slashes. Immediately her assailant changed his stance into what she knew was the dangerous Counter Strike, being able to dodge her subsequent attacks as well as the aggression her own minions now directed towards him. Trying to keep her distance from the whirling figure before her, she backed away towards the tower which would protect her from his assault, but she could not quite reach a safe enough distance before the lamp came down on her.

She felt a sharp jab of pain in the side of her head as she reeled from the impact, stunned for a second as he got a few more hits in. He had gotten the better of her during their short little exchange of blows, and she tread more carefully as she returned back to focusing on the minions who had also stopped attacking the two champions and resumed their little slap-fest. His technique would be down for quite some time, so she had little to fear at this point until he could bring it up again. What wasn't down, however, was the mild taunting her opponent threw at her as they faced each other.

"Never going to learn, are you?" he joked.

"I should have known better, but you're usually not one to resort to cowardly tactics like waiting for me in the brush, Jax," she replied.

"That's the beauty of battle," he remarked. "You'd never see it coming." As he ended the sentence he had reached level two before her and instantly jumped on her again, but as she leveled up at the same time, she prepared herself for his tactics. A dose of quick thinking allowed her to give him a taste of his own medicine by unleashing her own stun on him and then dashing away towards a minion, dodging the swinging lamp which aimed for her head. She closed the gap between them, sending two of her blades into his side.

After a few blows they disengaged from each other, both respecting the other's strength. "Better."

She smirked. "We're not too different, you know."

"You think so? That may be true. But I'll remind you why I've had the longest streak on the Fields to this day," Jax answered as they resumed fighting.

The two found each other quite equal in strength for a few levels, both remaining quite healthy due to their natural resilience, until the time when they hit level six, where she took advantage of Jax's Counter Strike just barely missing to pursue him towards his tower. Jax desperately tried to leap away to one of his friendly minions going up the lane but she turned her weapon into a projectile, unleashing the four blades at him like spears as they grazed past his skin. Attempting to dodge them as best as he could, he endured three hits but succumbed to her when the last one barely clipped him, wiping out the last of his energy and sending him crashing down to the ground.

"Well played," he gasped as he was sent back to the summoning platform to respawn. His counterpart merely gave him a knowing smile as she herself recalled, having dropped low on health herself after the encounter.

With the slight lead, Jax was forced to play a bit more cautiously, but as the resident Grandmaster at Arms, he knew he would eventually take back his advantage as time went on if he could procure enough gold to get the items he needed. After a few more levels went by without incident, Jax was able to catch his opponent greedily overextending and wasting most of her abilities in an attempt to take him down. Glad he had saved his Counter Strike for this moment, he masterfully dodged all of her attacks and struck back with a stun. Tapping into a well of fortitude, he unleashed his Grandmaster's Might to strengthen his resolve as this time, he was able to outduel his opponent to bring her down and even up the score.

"How'd you like that one, kid?" he jabbed as he continued his onslaught towards the enemy tower. She didn't respond this time either, leaving a wistful look on her face as her body was sent back to her own base.

By this time their intense one on one in their own little world had basically ended and their teams were calling on them to group up to help them move around the map. Jax's team was falling a bit behind, but he was confident in his ability to become even stronger yet, as he still had a few more items he would like to acquire. His counterpart, on the other hand, was quite content with the level of power she had reached and took it upon herself to build more defensively in order to survive longer in drawn out fights.

Eventually, despite his best efforts to mount a comeback, even being able to sneak in the destruction of the other team's nexus turrets, the combined efforts of the enemy team was able to finish off the game just a bit quicker than Jax could on his own. As proud as she felt for defeating such a tough opponent, she knew her one victory meant little against the impressive pedigree the fighter had built for himself. She heard of stories from the beginning of the League before she had joined, special restrictions created to limit his power because he had won so many matches in a row. Apparently the summoners had reigned in his power, as he served as a rare unorthodox pick by top ranking summoners, but she could still pick out the remnants of his former domination. In his current state, she supposed, a loss every now and then was inevitable, but despite his infrequent appearances, he still sported a stellar record. The other champions all knew this too, treating him with a good amount of respect when their paths crossed. And when the newcomers to the League first saw his power in battle with simply a lamppost, she could plainly read the shocked expressions on their faces: What if he had a real weapon?

Her surroundings turned to white as she closed her eyes and prepared for her return to the main summoning platform. She opened them once more to find the members of the opposing team standing on a similar platform on the other side of the room. Clambering down the set of stairs, the two teams met each other with the customary shaking of hands, well-wishing, and utterances of "good game." She knew the casual atmosphere in the room only arose since the match they played had little consequences on the politics of Valoran. The rights to a few miles of fishing spots off the coast of Demacia shouldn't have caused a great deal among the champions on the losing team, who merely shrugged off their losses. She sought out her opponent from the top lane, but Jax came across her first, offering a gloved hand as a sign of good will. "You were alright out there, kid," he said in his typical good-natured yet confident tone. "Made a few fancy moves, although your general technique could use some polishing."

She met his outstretched hand with her own and chuckled. "But who ended up winning that game, huh? Last time I checked, it was my team."

Jax merely laughed. "It was a team effort. I got pretty close on my own – wait till we get more evenly matched teams. Next time will be different, kid."

She looked at him testily, eager to prove his premonition wrong when next they met. "You can't blame your team on that loss. I thought they played well. And I have a name, Jax."

"Nah, I just like to give Lee a hard time. And don't take it personally, I do that to everyone. Anyways, I was heading over to Gragas' later tonight for some drinks. Your skill today has deemed you worthy in my book, so if you want to join me, feel free," he offered.

His invitation surprised her. She didn't see Jax as the very sociable type, and she only saw him out of matches when he entered a bar. Wondering what he wanted out of her, she considered his suggested location. Many champions of the League adored The Rabble-Rouser's Hut, especially Gragas, who of course managed the place. She gave him the benefit of the doubt and nearly flat-out accepted the invitation, but she wanted him to acknowledge that she was just as good of a fighter as he was. His status as the self-proclaimed Master of Arms amongst the League didn't matter to her; as far as it concerned her, they were equals.

"Well… I might consider it, but maybe if you'd ask a little more nicely," she hinted.

She could picture him groan under the dark hood of his. He didn't respond right away, probably taking some time to figure out a proper sequence of words. "It would be an honor for the Will of the Blades to accompany the Grandmaster at Arms to the Rabble-Rouser's establishment tonight."

"Try again."

He sighed and nearly turned to leave, but faced her and spoke once more. "You're a very charming woman, Irelia. Would you like to go out for some drinks tonight? I would greatly appreciate it."

She giggled at his extravagant tone. "You don't have to drown me in flattery. I'd love to, Jax."

* * *

**A/N: **rewrite in progress.


	2. The Demolition

One particularly stubborn curl of her jet-black hair refused to straighten, and Irelia decided both her straightener and her scalp didn't need more torture, setting the appliance down and heading towards the door of the apartment.

Irelia never attempted to hide her workaholic nature. Since she had come back to the mainland after spending her Snowdown back in Ionia, she had politely declined offers from a wide array of champions to join in the nightlife and festivities usually going on during weekends at the Institute, when the High Council only scheduled important matches in which only a select few champions would participate. She used training as her excuse most of the time, and while she did sacrifice a good amount of her free time sparring with Riven on the upper floors of the martial arts dojo, Irelia simply declined because the events didn't interest her. She did enjoy a few "girls' nights out" with a few of the Ionian champions, but neither Karma nor Soraka exactly frequented the bar, and Irelia had made sure never to take up an invitation suggested by the Nine-Tailed Fox for good reason. As a result, nothing exciting really came out of such get-togethers besides ingesting a few drinks, making polite conversation, and parting ways before it got too late.

Boring? Most likely. Unfun? Perhaps. But she would never consider herself antisocial, and Irelia had convinced herself that she agreed to meet with Jax so she could truthfully say she had branched out from her inner circle. She didn't quite know the real reason she felt drawn to him, and she started having second thoughts about their little date, if she ventured to call it one, but Irelia always kept her word. Still, she had to wonder what he intended to do besides have a couple of drinks. She never pegged him as the sociable type. In fact, Irelia realized she knew very little about the man outside of his penchant for dominating League matches and an equally large appetite for alcoholic beverages. Despite all of the stories which circulated the grapevine about how much Jax would drink, no one could follow it up with a tale of an inebriated Jax losing control of his actions and doing anything regrettable.

Her reflection in the mirror portrayed a quite different figure than the one people would typically see on the Fields or back home in Ionia, where, as Captain of the Guard, she frequently exercised her duty to defend her homeland and maintain the natural balance and harmony for which Ionia was known. Instead of her typical red armor, she traded in the Mantle of Decorum for a sleeveless yellow dress in tones reminiscent of her Aviator outfit, its modest length falling down to her knees. A white pearl necklace, pieced together with authentic Ionian pearls from the northern beaches, completed her outfit. Slipping on a black wool jacket to protect her from the cold winter air, she looked at the four spirit blades hung on the wall near her door. Debating with herself for a second, she decided to play it safe and take them along with her. The spirit blades could fit nicely into a compact shape at her back so they wouldn't attract attention, and since they did levitate, they didn't bring around any unnecessary weight.

It would take her quite some time to make it to the bar, nestled in the northwestern corner of the Institute, so Irelia gave herself ample time to make the trek, especially considering she had to walk in a pair of heels she hadn't quite broken in yet. True to geographical position on the map, the Institute had placed the Ionian quarters in the far eastern side of the apartment complexes, with only the apartments belonging to the champions of Piltover nearby. She caught a glimpse of the Prodigal Explorer, decked out in a flashy white tuxedo, catch her eye and wave from a distance before running to catch up with Jayce, who dressed in a similar fashion. Irelia smirked to herself as she watched them turn a corner. Two of the League's infamous playboys, the Ionian had experienced their flirtatious natures firsthand not long after her induction into the League, when Ezreal had tried to take advantage of her naivety and take her out to a fireworks show. To his credit, the pyrotechnics impressed her. His half-baked pick-up lines, which he had dubbed "ancient love poetry," did not. Irelia shuddered before a second before repressing the memory further into the recesses of her mind.

The long walk gave her time to mull about some other thoughts, particularly about her impending companion. Though you couldn't see very much below Jax's hood, she could make out a pattern of eyes, and she didn't just see two. She wondered if he had some strange mutation which gave him two extra pairs of eyes, or if he simply wasn't human; she wagered more on the first possibility, since he did sound fairly normal and his mannerisms seemed human enough. The prospect of taking down his hood and revealing a horrifying arachnid face did cross her thoughts, however, and she began to have second thoughts about wanting to see underneath the hood. Come to think of it, the glowing spheres did look very similar to the peculiar headgear donned by her fellow Ionian, Master Yi. She made a mental note to ask Jax if they shared any relation.

Still deeply consumed in her ponderings, she nearly ran into the faded white cloak of a familiar marksman. She hadn't expected the normally grim dark-skinned man to wander out and join in the festivities, but the Purifier stood before her in the flesh, and she saw a red tie and dress shirt underneath his usual outfit. Lucian whirled around, his expression softening when he recognized Irelia. "Will of the Blades. You're out celebrating, too?"

It appeared that he had left his twin relic weapons in his apartment, and Irelia felt a little silly for taking her own weapons with her, although Lucian didn't have the advantage of storing them in a convenient place. "Mhm. I don't typically go here, but Jax invited me earlier today and I decided to give it a try." The sounds of electronic music, backed by a reverberating beat, got louder as they approached the top of the hill which housed the bar.

Lucian nodded in understanding. "Seems like the mob's beaten us here. It's looking like a mighty fine mess in there. I've got to go find Graves, I was supposed to meet him in all of this mess." He started to take his leave, but turned around, his brown eyes darkening as he made eye contact with Irelia. "Keep yourself safe. You'll be in good hands with Jax, but there's something in the air tonight that just doesn't feel right," he spoke in a low voice before returning to his usual tone. Irelia felt the pressure in her ears suddenly change, as if she had gone underwater, and then her senses returned to normal.

"Take care, then. We might run into each other once we get inside," Lucian said, giving her a friendly wave goodbye as he hurried off into the faceless crowd lining up at the entrance. Irelia moved towards the entrance, jostling for position amidst the myriad of people, and tried to find Jax to see if he could tell her anything about the matter.

She found him in the same old robes he dressed in when battling on the Rift, leaning back against a thin pillar, a raised hand waving for her to come over. "You made it," Jax greeted.

Irelia greeted him back before looking him over skeptically. "You use these same robes for everything?"

The grandmaster shifted his shoulders slightly. "These are my drinking robes. I have a set for every occasion: battles on the Rift, casual wear, pajamas. It's a very complex affair, I don't think you would understand. But, rest assured, it's a very daunting task. I have a tailor connection in Piltover sew each one to my exact specifications," he explained. "After all, I have to keep up appearances."

Irelia arched an eyebrow, a bit put off by his exaggerated story. Even if he did tell the truth about his clothing, she couldn't think of any convincing reason to have a plethora of sets of the same clothes. Even if he wished to mask his identity, she didn't think it would kill him to at least pick out a change of color every one in a while.

"But you," Jax continued, "have definitely seemed to dress for the occasion. Those are real pearls, aren't they?"

She brightened, not expecting anyone but a native to recognize the style of necklace. "They are, thank you. By the way," she added, gesturing at the huge line piled up right outside the entrance, "it seems like there's quite a lot going on here tonight. I wasn't expecting such a spectacle."

Jax turned to acknowledge the crowd she pointed at, nodding. "Ah, yes. Tonight they've decided to celebrate that new champion introduced to the League earlier this week. The Void Burrower creature."

Irelia thought back to the announcement. She didn't really pay much attention to the new arrival. Champions from the Void couldn't mean anything but trouble. What was its name? Rek'Sai, I think.

"Can't imagine why everyone would show so much excitement over a new champion of the Void," Irelia observed.

"They don't care who it is, they just care that there is someone," Jax explained. "This crowd just needs an excuse to throw a huge party, and celebrating a big purple Void shark joining our ranks works for them. Gragas isn't one to complain, as it's definitely helping his business."

Irelia nodded her assent. "No matter what the occasion, it's going to be a long wait before we can get in," she said as she started to get in line. Jax, however, pulled her back. Indicating for her to stay put, he walked up to the doors of the entrance. Tapping the bouncer at the door's shoulder, he pointed at himself and then Irelia. After a quick look at the woman, the bouncer, who Irelia swore had to be Dr. Mundo, nodded, after which Jax motioned for her to walk over towards the entrance and bypass the crowd.

Jax stepped aside and gestured an "after you," and after they had both entered, Irelia addressed him. "Did I just see the Madman of Zaun letting us in at the doors?"

"Oh. I guess you did," Jax replied nonchalantly. "Old Mundo and I go way back. It's a very long and strange story, so I'll spare you the details. But come over here, I'll get you a drink." They made their way to the counter, passing a few fellow champions and staff members of the Institute, who all greeted them fairly warmly. At their destination, they were met by none other than the Rabble-Rouser himself, who seated himself on one of the bar stools instead of behind the counter. Gragas had already started celebrating, by the look of the half-empty glass of wine in his hand.

"Well if it isn't Jax," Gragas greeted them heartily as he shook Jax's hand firmly before turning to Irelia. "And what do we have here? None other than the Will of the Blades. Good to see you, and welcome!"

Irelia smiled. "Thank you, Gragas, it's good to see you too." The man was dressed quite sharply today, a stark change from the less than tasteful garb he normally wore on the Fields of Justice. "Enough of the formalities, then, go get yourselves some drinks!" the large man prodded.

"I'd be happy to," Jax agreed as he waved over the bartender.

"So." Gragas turned to Jax. "I already know what you'll be having, mate, but what about the lovely lady here?" he asked.

Irelia hurriedly racked her mind for something to say, but Jax quickly stepped in for her. "Give her the Oriental. Blue Flame. I'll have the usual." She had no idea what kind of drink he demanded, but both the bartender and Gragas understood, as the former went off to prepare the drink while the latter merely sat back against the counter and laughed. "Ah, you know how to treat a woman, don't you, Jax?" Gragas joked, a wide grin spread across his face.

Irelia became concerned, and the wine connoisseur faced her, calming down a bit before explaining, "Don't worry, lass. Jax has a knack for picking the drink to fit the guest, and this one is especially high quality. Lucky for you I've just imported a few kegs from Bilgewater! Mr. Grandmaster over here is definitely living the high class life – but I bet you have mountains of gold to spend, the way you're playing recently, don't you, boy?"

Jax merely shrugged. "I've got enough. My salary shouldn't concern you, as long as I pay well, right?"

"But of course!" Gragas exclaimed as he got off the stool he was sitting on. Turning to Irelia, he added, "You're in good hands here, Irelia. It's not often that he spends some of his attention on a pretty lady like you. Well, if you'll excuse me, I have a lot more guests to entertain, so I'll see you around later maybe. Or not! Hohoho!" he laughed as he walked away.

Irelia looked very perplexed. "I'm not even sure where to begin asking…"

"You can't take half of the things Gragas says seriously, I'll admit," Jax explained, "but he means well, so don't look so stressed." He placed his hands on her shoulders, gently pushing them down as Irelia realized they had tensed up during their conversation. She relaxed a bit and took a deep breath. "I'm fine, just a little caught off guard."

"Now, as to your drink. It's a mixture of rum, cherries, and a dash of those exotic berries that only grow on the islands near Bilgewater. Hence the name Blue Flame," Jax explained as the bartender brought back the drinks they had ordered. Irelia's had a tint of electric blue while Jax immediately grabbed his beverage, an almost pure white liquid mixed with a twinge of grey.

"Bilgewater?" Irelia asked, incredulous. "So something that Ga –"

"No, nothing related to Gangplank," Jax dismissed with a wave of his hand. "I got the tip from Miss Fortune, actually, as she had a hand in the creation of the drink. I'm sure you'll find Sarah's taste in beverages far more appealing."

The Ionian sighed in relief. Though the eccentric Bounty Hunter might say a few strange things, between the two seafaring champions from Bilgewater, she definitely preferred Miss Fortune to Gangplank when it came to any sort of delicate matter, as the woman at least knew what she was doing. That applied to alcoholic drinks as well. Encouraged by Jax's explanation, she took a sip of her glass. It was sweet, with a bit of tanginess, and she chose to try a little more. Before her time at the Institute, she had only occasionally tasted the comparatively bland sake during Ionian festivals. The Placidium guard did have access to harder tasting alcohol, but she refrained from consuming them around the company of the men, as she had to keep up a good appearance as Captain.

She couldn't see any expression from Jax under that hood of his as he too began to ingest his drink, downing almost a quarter of it already, much more than Irelia had sampled. "What's 'the usual' for you, Jax?" she asked.

"This is a Frejlordian drink," he stated. "Mostly vodka and a bit of whiskey, but if you want to know more, you should ask Gragas himself. I'm not exactly sure what goes into this, but it's definitely grown on me. Careful, though," he warned, "it's pretty strong. Not a lot of people can handle it."

She stared at the glass. And yet he just drank a fourth of it right off the bat, with no inhibitions? She expected some odd quirks from Jax, but she wouldn't have associated them with drinking. Many secrets had to lie under that hood of his, and she wanted to figure out at least one of them before the end of the night. Taking a few more sips out of her drink, she suggested they mingle around and talk to other people, hoping the contents of his beverage might loosen him up and get him to blurt something out. Jax agreed, taking a large swig of his glass again. He had almost emptied its contents – and Irelia wasn't sure if she was more impressed or concerned. Making their way around the place, they came across a large table where a few champions who also fought in the top lane cracked jokes and told stories while taking shots in between. Irelia moved closer so she could clearly hear their conversation.

"So I told them, 'If you choose me, you'll like the way you look. I… Garen-tee it,'" a deep, familiar voice boomed, laughing at his own joke. Irelia could also make out the laughter of a monkey, the low chuckling of a canine, and the groans of a certain Rogue Mage.

"I've heard better jokes from Malphite," a female voice with a French accent complained.

"That's probably because he has nothing else to do in a lane against you," Jax quipped from behind Irelia, eliciting a couple of "oohs" and guffaws from the other champions. The table's inhabitants all turned to appraise the newcomers. The sole female at the table glared at the jab Jax threw out, her brown eyes fixated on him with intensity.

"He got you pretty good there, didn't he, Fiora?" a monkey's voice teased.

"You shut your mouth, Monkey King," the duelist retorted, "or should I remind you of the wonderful time you had the last time we laned against each other?" Irelia had to smile at their antics, as she knew from personal experience that Fiora easily had her pride wounded. At first Wukong couldn't come up with a suitable comeback, sitting still in his seat with a blank face, but everyone soon realized it was his clone as the real Wukong appeared behind Fiora, clasping her on the shoulders before switching places with the clone in a puff of smoke and returning to his seat. "You might have gotten me once, but it'll never happen again!"

A low voice at the end of the table calmly greeted the two newcomers. "The Will of the Blades. Grandmaster at Arms. It is good to see you here."

Jax merely uttered a "Hey," while Irelia gave a more complete greeting to the jackal-demigod. "I say the same for you, Nasus. I wouldn't expect a bookish soul like you to be here."

The curator chuckled. "Yes, I've gotten a lot of that tonight. Nevertheless, I feel it is my duty to attend the celebratory party of a new champion to the League – even if it is held in honor of that scourge of the sands."

Irelia could sympathize – a champion related to the Void definitely wouldn't mean good things to the residents of the Shuriman Desert. "I'm surprised you've maintained enough composure to act so relaxed like this in such an environment, though."

"Child, when you've lived for eons like I have, there is little that can perturb me now," Nasus stated solemnly.

A somber silence surrounded the table, but that was quickly broken when Garen raised up his glass and offered up a speech. "So, a toast. For our glorious top lane brotherhood!" Resounding sounds of "Hear, hear" went up all around – with people choosing to ignore Fiora's protests of "Sisterhood, too!" – and a good time was had by all.

Irelia quite enjoyed herself with the other top laners, and though she was usually quite reserved, she still decided to continue drinking a little more throughout the night – though not as much as others at the table. Garen had left the company once he had suddenly picked up his stool and ran around the bar shouting "DEMACIA!" scaring any passerby unfortunate enough to cross his path. The group slowly dissolved as the night went on, but Fiora, who hadn't drank as much as the guys, pulled Irelia towards the balcony of the bar. "The fireworks are about to start, come watch with Wukong and me!" she invited. They made their way to the open-air platform on the second floor, where a sizable amount of people had already gathered.

"I'm so excited for the fireworks!" a small voice said, coming from a yordle perched up on one of the tables.

"Wait till you see what I've got cooked up, Tristana!" another yordle voice said excitedly as he made his way up another flight of stairs to the roof. Ziggs was in charge of the firework display this year and could not wait any longer to show off his hexplosive masterpiece – or maybe it was just his natural, volatile personality showing impatience.

Irelia laughed a little at the yordle's eagerness. "Wow, this is great, Jax. Thank you for invi" – she began as she turned around, looking for the grandmaster, who was nowhere to be found. Thinking he had slipped away earlier in the night, she shrugged, not too worried about him because Jax was not a person she would be concerned about if left alone. He'd find her before the party would end, she was sure.

"Going off in ten seconds!" Ziggs exclaimed triumphantly.

"This is going to be great!" Wukong let out at her side.

"Five… four… three… two… one," the yordle counted down. He then pulled a rope, launching a rocket into the air. _It's beautiful, _Irelia thought as she prepared for the explosion and subsequent display of lights.

A tremor much closer than she had expected shook the ground where they stood. Everyone looked around in confusion, some people glancing at Ziggs as if to ask what was going on. The yordle was just as puzzled as everyone else. "I'm not sure what's going o" – he was saying as the sound of a large explosion cut him off, seemingly from inside Gragas' bar. The floor tore itself up from beneath them, knocking splinters of wood set aflame everywhere. Irelia, as well as everyone who stood on the balcony with her, was knocked off her feet, high into the air, arms and legs flailing wildly. She struggled to gain some control over her limbs, or even reach out to the spirit blades still attached to her back, but her attempts at controlling her senses were swallowed by the sheer sense of panic which engulfed her. A scream escaped her lips, one of many which rent the night air.

And then she was falling. Gravity took over, plunging her down, deep into the burning conflagration. And all she could see was the night sky lit by the tongues of fire which rose higher and higher, pillars of flame which danced around the edges of her blurry vision. In desperation Irelia reached out for something - anything - but caught nothing as she fell into the maw of the flamberge which roared beneath her.

* * *

**A/N:** less of Jax than I was intending, more of Irelia realizing she needs to go out more and then immediately thinking otherwise. Dialogue scenes might be rushed, but I was trying to get to the ending because those are fun to write. Have I killed off scores of people before my third chapter? Am I really that cruel? We'll see.


	3. The Death Toll

Some say the world will end in fire. Some say in ice. What Irelia knew was that the apocalypse, whatever it was, would bring pain. She had landed on her arm on the grassy plain outside Gragas' bar – or rather, what remained standing of the establishment. Amidst the flames, she could hear voices shouting for help, demands for water, and pleads for salvation. She had more pressing matters to attend to – literally. The weight of her body had all but crushed the arm, and she heard a sickening crack on impact that she would rather not think about. Not entirely sure of how badly damaged she was, Irelia elected to remain lying down until the pain stopped. It wasn't just in that one arm, but all over as her body reeled from the impact. She could only hope that if help was coming, it would come to her too.

The fire was still raging, coloring the night a terrible maroon color. Smoke filled the air as well, and Irelia couldn't help but cough every now and then as she looked up at the sky, turning her head every now and then to see if she could grab a glimpse of her surroundings. She witnessed the frantic movement of feet running by, yet no one seemed to notice her in particular. It was alright, however: as a champion of the League, she'd experienced much worse than this in a few particularly chaotic teamfights. The difference was that those injuries were mere simulations. This was real, and more importantly, the other casualties mixed up in the mess were not replaceable. Horror struck Irelia as she thought of the amount of staff from the Institute and summoners who were unlucky enough to step foot in that bar that night.

One thought rose up above the rest in the swirling flux which was Irelia's thoughts at the time. _Jax. _If he wasn't up on the balcony, or at least the second floor, but had remained on ground level, the force of the explosion would probably inflict more damage to those nearer its epicenter. She didn't want to fully grasp what that would entail if it were true. Yet a part of her firmly held the conviction that Jax had been through things like this, with the odds extremely stacked against him, and come out on top. Recalling the story of how Xin Zhao came to his position at the side of the Lightshield family, Irelia mused how similar the seneschal and Jax were. Both overcoming impossible odds, and still standing at the end of the day. If she could have built up the strength to smile, she would have made one right there. Instead, she could do nothing more than continuing to lie there.

She despised this state of vulnerability, and although she had to count herself fortunate for even being alive, her weakness in this state brought back flashbacks of the Noxian invasion of her the fateful encounter where the spirit blades of the temple in which she had taken refuge had bonded to her, she was following orders given to hold out until her brother, Zelos, had returned from seeking foreign aid. Though her will had held out, she physically could do nothing to resist the Noxian assault, and although her steadfast spirit certainly gave some confidence to the Ionian defenders, she contributed nothing tangible to actually holding back the invaders. Until the intervention of the Starchild reinvigorated her and her trusted blades first answered her call, she was nothing.

Remembering her spirit blades, Irelia reached out with her mind to sense where they had fallen. Fortunately they were close by, lying down on the field around her. She attempted to focus her thoughts and reach a mental threshold where she could at least maneuver the blades, but the pain still aching through her joints, coupled with her natural exhaustion, meant that the blades did not move a single inch.

Was she really going to remain like this? Weak and completely useless again? She didn't want to accept her fate, but it wasn't giving her a choice. And so the agonizing period of waiting around, hoping for help to come, resumed.

Finally, something different broke the stale landscape of smoke and fire. A dark figure emerged from the flames, its red and black colors matching the dreadful scene which served as its backdrop. The figure seemed to regard the scene of destruction with nothing more than an amused expression on its face. Irelia recognized the stoic figure which stood before her: Aatrox, the Darkin Blade. Her features paled, as she was aware of the warrior's fearsome capabilities. Not only was he an expert swordsman, but what was more terrifying was his attitude towards the existence of chaos. War, destruction, entropy – all forms of disorder invigorated him and the power of his blade seemed to grow exponentially in the midst of it all. Here he was right in his element, and although she could hold him off on the Fields of Justice, his power there was somewhat limited due to the special magical constraints imposed on supernatural creatures thanks to the work of the summoners of the Institute. But there was nothing such holding him back now, and Irelia was in no position to defend herself adequately. She only hoped that on this night the Darkin Blade had no interest of preying upon the weak helpless.

The darkin regarded her with a sneer. "What a pleasant surprise to find you out here on this... delightful night, Will of the Blades," he greeted with a malicious tone in his voice.

"Aatrox," was all Irelia could manage. Seeing her prone figure unable to move or say anything more, the warrior let out a laugh in that terrifying, otherworldly voice of his.

"You fear me," he observed, raising his blade. "I have the power to cut you down here, right now. The power to cut the strings of your life, to snuff out the flame of your essence. How does it make you feel?"

"You…you wouldn't dare," she attempted to answer with all the defiance she could muster.

"It is nothing I would regret at all," he replied coldly. "War reveals what is within us. But striking you down would not symbolize what I embody. I leave that to the horseman of Conquest. My true calling is the thrill of battle. I would wish for you to take up your blades and fight me, warrior against warrior."

"Then… what do you want of me?" Irelia asked.

"I am only here to witness the sweet, sweet mortality of life. Death rides his horse not long after one of us has blazed the trail. It is a byproduct of war, and it is to be appreciated." Leaving her with those cryptic, yet horrifying words, he spread out his wings, took to the skies, and departed from her in a dark flight.

His presence seemed to weaken her will to keep her eyes open. Irelia felt herself succumbing to oblivion, and although she tried to struggle, the soft touch oblivion gently guided her to unconsciousness.

* * *

The light had become a foreign agent to her, and Irelia groaned as she turned on her side to shield her eyes from the oppressive rays which shone on her. With her senses returning to complete operative capabilities, she realized she wasn't lying on the ground any more. Pressing her fingers to the surface below her, she realized it was a bed, furnished with a soft blanket covering her and pillows supporting her head. She tried moving her injured arm. Big mistake. Wincing in pain, she pushed up with her other arm in an attempt to raise herself up into a sitting position. The effort took much longer than it should have, as she only had the use of one hand, but eventually she got herself to lean her back against the bedpost. From her position, she could fully examine her surroundings. This was not her room – the quarters were way too cramped for that. She surmised she had been brought into one of the rooms in the medical ward. A table was on her left, outfitted with assorted pieces of medical equipment.

Irelia sighed. She was grateful for surviving, but she once again found herself helpless, waiting for others to do things. Considering leaving the room to see for herself the aftermath of that tragic night, she began pulling the covers off of her legs so she could get up from the bed.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," a voice from the door suggested, and the familiar purple robes fully entered the small room.

"Jax," Irelia managed. "You're… What happened? How long was I – where is everyo –" All of the words pent up in her thoughts rushed out, but Jax motioned for her to stop.

"You're only going to tire yourself out again. I'll explain everything you may want to know," the grandmaster began. "It's been sixteen hours since the explosion. Gragas' place has been completely destroyed, I'm sorry to report. Yes, there have been deaths. No champion was part of the dead, as far as we could tell. At least, I know what happened to every champion we met there. They're all alive. There are a lot more that ended up like you, in rooms all over the ward," he continued matter-of-factly, as if he was back at the bar, explaining to her the composition of some alcoholic beverage.

She realized he hadn't answered what she really wanted to know. "What happened to you? Were you hurt? You couldn't have escaped the blast… you were probably downstairs too," she said, very confused.

"Don't worry about it," Jax answered simply. "Soraka will be back shortly, you'll be out of here in no time," he added as he walked out of the room.

The Ionian's confusion did not abate, and she became a little indignant. Going to the trouble of visiting her in her damaged condition, saying a few sentences, and casually walking out as if nothing happened? The least he could offer her was some more explanation.

Her stormy thoughts calmed when a more reasonable figured entered the room: Soraka, as Jax had promised. Irelia gave a weak smile at the arrival of her old friend, who had not been at the bar that night, and therefore was more than able to administer to what must have been the hundreds of injured as a result of the fallout of that night.

"Soraka… Jax wouldn't tell me anything, but I figured you wouldn't have anything to hide from me. Can you tell me what exactly went on last night?" she asked as the Starchild took a roll of bandages from the table and began wrapping them around Irelia's damaged arm. Irelia winced for a second, but knew they would help.

"So…where to begin? I've counted 146 patients, and that's just the number I've attended to. About eighty percent of them were unlucky summoners or staff of the Institute. Only thirty of the League champions were actually there at Gragas', so we're fortunate that not too many of our champions have been put out of commission. Nevertheless, matches for this following week have been cancelled.

"No one hasn't really traced the cause of the explosion. The Piltover duo would've surely been on the case by now, but Vi was one of the champions at the bar and the Sheriff isn't leaving her partner's side until she's in any condition to do any investigating around. The Judicator has headed a team in the interim, and a few of the Demacians have agreed to help her in her efforts."

Irelia nodded. "I see. What of our own people?" she asked, curious as to the fate of her fellow Ionian champions.

"About half of them ended up just like you – no condition to do anything but rest right now. The ones who could act – well, we were really worried about you," Soraka explained, a frown on her face.

Irelia was surprised at the sudden concern for her well-being. "But… it's not like I'm nobility or anything. We're all equals amongst each other's company as long as we've been in the League."

"Well, to us all, you've been the face of Ionia," Soraka explained. "You gave us the power to resist the Noxian invasion. Everyone looks to you for inspiration, and we've grown to respect you a lot. But more importantly, you're not just a revered figure, you're a friend," she finished, with a tender smile on her face as she finished bandaging her arm.

Irelia mulled over what Soraka had told her. It was true, compared to the personalities of the Demacians, although they were courteous enough to other people, they didn't show as much regard for other humans as they showed patriotic zeal for their country. Ionians, on the other hand, were a closer-knit group, and showed a lot more care for each other.

"Thanks, Soraka," Irelia said, "and to everyone who was worried for me. But… Soraka, were you there that night after the explosion happened? Did you see the immediate aftermath?" She was going to ask how Jax escaped the blast zone, if anyone had seen him leave the remains of Gragas' bar.

"You could hear that sound from anywhere on the Institute. I got there probably twenty minutes afterwards, where those who weren't all lying on the ground or stuck in the fiery wreckage of the bar were running around, attempting to help or get others to help. The Tidecaller was probably the one helping out the most, as she was the one actually extinguishing the flames with her control of the ocean. But while the ambulances from the Institute had arrived on the scene and the medical staff brought out the stretchers to carry the injured, I simply went to the nearest people in need and did my best to heal them. Some of the burn marks were quite awful… and it is my deepest regret that I could not save everyone," she bowed her head in sorrow.

"No one could ever expect you to," Irelia consoled her. "I'm sure you did all you could."

"It doesn't get any easier to see a person die in your arms, Irelia," the Starchild said gravely. "But I'm glad I didn't have to see you in that position. You have Jax to thank for that."

Irelia looked at her in surprise. "Jax? He was there?"

"Yes, he must have gotten there fairly quickly, as besides the Tidecaller and myself, he was the only champion I saw at the scene so soon after it actually happened," she answered.

She couldn't believe it. How was that possible? "Soraka… Jax had taken me to that bar. He was with me when the explosion happened."

The Starchild's expression changed from thoughtful to shock, just as Irelia had expected. "You're… you're saying he was there with you, but he was unharmed? But everyone who reported they were standing on the balcony with you had suffered similar injuries. I can't believe that man simply walked out of there without a hair under his hood untouched."

"Well, he wasn't exactly with me, but up until a few minutes before the explosion, we were near each other. He couldn't have left the building that quickly. But I'm with you on this – that man is simply abnormal."

"Hmm…" Soraka trailed off as she thought about the matter for a second. Shrugging her shoulders, she reached for her staff. "After this last healing spell, you should be good to leave. I still have a lot more patients to attend to, but as a League champion you have higher resilience than usual. Still, don't put a lot of stress on that arm of yours. Once again, matches are cancelled, so you won't have an issue getting a few days of relaxing." Lifting her staff and reciting a runic incantation, Soraka cast one final spell on Irelia, a green glow emanating from the swordswoman's arm. Irelia could feel the pain leaving her. "Thank you, Soraka."

"It's just my duty. I'll walk you out," she offered as she helped Irelia out of the bed and walked with her down the hallway.

The medical ward, for the sake of convenience, had been located not far from any of the residential buildings in which the champions lived, so it didn't take a huge exertion from Irelia to make her way back to her room. Hoping to learn as much as she could about the incident, she went to the electronic monitor located in her living room and turned it on. The default message on the screen read 'Catastrophic explosion destroys Rabble-Rouser's bar, killing many,' and Irelia touched the header with her finger, wanting to read more of the article.

'The explosion went off at approximately 11:30 PM last night, determined to be centered at a spot below the bar and expanding to a radius of around 200 meters. Demolitions experts at the Institute stepped in, as the Hexplosives Expert had been put out of commission himself, having been at the scene of the incident. No reports have shown sabotage or faulty equipment within the pyrotechnical devices intended for deploying the fireworks display scheduled for last night. Death toll has been estimated at around forty as of now, with strange complications setting in amongst the wounded increasing the number. No League champions have perished as a result of the accident.

Further investigation into the matter has been severely limited, as several important persons who would be prime sources of information are in no condition to be taken into interrogation. The Institute's police force has staked off the area as well as every other establishment within a 500-meter perimeter, and most businesses have been shut down for the day as the Institute goes into full investigative mode regarding the incident. League matches have been postponed, with a tentative resuming date of next week…'

That was all Irelia had read before an alert had popped up on her monitor. No author had been indicated, but the message wasn't some kind of spam or advertisement. Instead, she read a few, concise words.

"South Wing, Azalea Room. Four o'clock. Urgent matters.

\- Jax."

* * *

**A/N**: Less action this chapter, more seriousness. To be honest, I didn't expect it to take such a dark turn when I wrote the first chapter. I swear this is a Jax &amp; Irelia story, rather than a bunch of cameos from characters who happen to fit at points in the story.


	4. The Draft Measures

The light in the darkness does not always indicate safety to those who gaze upon it, as the unfortunate prey of the angler-fish can attest. As Irelia opened the door into the Magnolia Room, she could see nothing through the blackness but an eerie grouping of eyes staring at her from across the way. Alarmed, she raised her spirit blades in a defensive stance and walked forwards cautiously.

"There's no need to be so on edge," Jax promised as she walked in. The familiar sound of his voice seemed to have calmed Irelia down a little, but their surroundings definitely did not.

"Oh, it's just you," Irelia sighed in relief. "But what's with the creepy ambience? You could at least turn the light on."

"Security measures, I assure you. Now lock the door. Our third member should be arriving soon," the grandmaster answered.

"What? But then how will he get in?"

A couple of glowing eyeballs materialized over both Jax and Irelia's heads. The Ionian was startled at first, but remembered where she had seen this technique used on the Fields. The feeling of knowing that someone was about to materialize next to you, and you could do nothing to stop the transit, was an ominous feeling. So it could only belong to one person…

A few small steps appeared out of the ground a few feet away from them, and a bright light appeared on top of the steps. After it dissipated, a slender figure dressed in a brown leather jacket and boots appeared. The trademark cowboy's hat on his head made it impossible to mistake the new appearance.

"Howdy, partners," Twisted Fate greeted them. In his hand he carried what appeared to be an envelope parcel, but Irelia was cast back into darkness as the steps disappeared, taking the faint light they gave off away from them as well.

"Glad you could make it," Jax said. "If you could light the candles, we can get this meeting started." With a flick of his wrist, the Card Master summoned flames to light a candelabrum on a table which Jax now appeared to be sitting at. Taking a seat opposite Jax, Twisted Fate motioned for Irelia to do the same.

She chose a seat next to Jax. "So what's with all these measures of secrecy? This room has light switches, so you didn't need to go to the trouble of using candles of all things. I feel like I'm in an interrogation room," she inquired.

"It's more complicated than that. It's imperative no one realizes this room is being occupied. The windows have to remain closed, the curtains have to be drawn, and the light switches need to stay off. Those lights trigger the security cameras," Jax explained.

"What?" Irelia asked, visibly surprised.

"The Institute has secretly installed security cameras in every room and facility open to the public. These cameras only work when there is an electrical light source activated in such a place. As I said, it's important this meeting be held in absolute secrecy," Jax continued.

"Couldn't we just go to one of our rooms? They couldn't have surveillance watching us there," Irelia said, failing to understand why they had chosen such a strange place to meet.

"Jax doesn't want anyone in his room besides himself," Twisted Fate put in. "The authorities have actually kept a close eye on my quarters, so I'd rather not risk endangering our confidence. As for yourself, you should probably know one of the other Ionian champions has actually been acting as a double agent for the Institute."

Again, Irelia was shocked. "What? Why would the Institute feel the need to spy on us? And there's no way any of the Ionians would betray their countrymen. We're much too close for that! Who could it possibly be?"

"One at a time, lass," Twisted Fate answered her. "The Institute looks like it's being really friendly with its chosen champions, but Jax here and I have been digging around for the past few months, and it's actually been doing some pretty shady stuff. Since you seem to keep coming up with two questions for every one thing I tell you, let me continue.

I suppose it all started with the introduction of that wind samurai to the League. Yasuo. He didn't do anything wrong himself, but his popularity with the summoners and the inhabitants of Runeterra caused quite a disturbance amongst the higher-ups of the Institute. They were getting worried that commercialization of all things related to the League were directed towards the champions themselves, making the Institute lose recognition and prestige. When you compare the power of the Institute to the city-states of Demacia, Noxus, Zaun, and the rest, you'll see that the city-states are getting a lot stronger than the Institute in terms of power and wealth. This is what the authorities here are trying to reverse.

Jax and I thought it over and figured that very popular champions with a large fanbase in the city-states were the prime forces for making the Institute lose its prestige. They made the Institute attempt some measures to curb the popularity of said champions. Do you recall the changes made to Yasuo's fighting ability a few months ago?"

Irelia attempted to recollect the memory in her head. "I haven't really fought against Yasuo that often on the Fields with the different roles that we play. The few times a summoner did try to take him into the top lane, he seemed a bit weaker and less swift than usual. I just thought it was an inexperienced summoner, that's all."

Twisted Fate nodded. "No, that's exactly it. It's the little things, but anyone that pays attention to detail will notice. Since we're both mid laners, I've definitely noticed negative effects done to his character. Fights he should have been winning, or maneuvers he was usually able to make, weren't working for him. I'm not one to complain, but I have to admit it was the Institute's work. I spoke to him about it after one match and he acted really funny for a while. He led me to his room and wouldn't say anything until he was absolutely sure we were alone. Then he revealed to me that there was some freak accident which happened to him when he was using the training facilities – something about one of the test dummies recoiling too hard when he hit it so it swung back and knocked him out cold." Twisted Fate adjusted his cowboy hat and saw Irelia looking at him with a very skeptical look.

"It sounds preposterous, but that's the truth. Conveniently, there just _happened _to be a nurse from the Institute who noticed what happened to him and took him into the medical ward. When we saw Yasuo come out the next day, you could see a slight limp in his step, and he was never the same. It seems really stupid, having a test dummy do so much damage to him, but it's fairly likely that the nurse was one of the Institute's agents and the medical attention he received after the accident was designed to permanently impair him. Not by a lot, because everyone would notice, but those who would summon Yasuo would experience some difficulty in using him because his physical abilities were slightly weakened."

Irelia couldn't believe Twisted Fate's story. The thought that the very Institute which selected them to act as champions, as representatives of the nations, as glorified fighters, would purposely harm them just because they got a little popular, disgusted her. "So this is the Institute's plan? To slowly cripple us until we can't even fight properly?"

"Who knows? Look at yourself, Irelia. A couple of years ago the very procedure happened to you in a span of several months."

It seemed the avalanche of surprises wouldn't stop raining down on her. "But… I never experienced any accidents in the past few years since I became a champion," she protested.

"Apparently the Institute has many different means of reducing a champion's effectiveness," Twisted Fate continued. "But it seemed to have worked. From the start of that time period to the end, your popularity amongst summoners dropped about thirty percent."

"That's… I never noticed that. Maybe I did feel a little bit weaker, but I thought it was because I was getting so much play time that I was starting to get tired," Irelia mused out loud. "Where did you even get those statistics?" she wondered.

"A man has his ways," Twisted Fate answered vaguely. "Doesn't hurt that Evelynn helps out every now and then."

Irelia nodded, realizing the usefulness of someone who could go invisible at will. "So what are we here to discuss?"

"These," Jax answered, taking the parcel Twisted Fate had brought and opening it up on the table for all three of them to see. The papers within were a bunch of graphs and charts which indicated the champions of the highest popularity in the most recent weeks.

"Fiora, Lucian, Ryze… we saw all of them at Gragas' party, didn't we?" Irelia asked Jax.

"That we did. Then this does fit our suspicions that the explosion which happened last night was the work of the Institute in an attempt to get at quite a lot of champions in one shot," Jax replied.

"So they've all taken a pretty big hit for now," Twisted Fate commented. "Any one of these names you knew who weren't at the party?"

Irelia pointed to a few names who she knew probably wouldn't have been at the bar. "Sona… and the Dark Sovereign. Syndra."

"Then it's safe to say that the Institute is coming for them next," Jax noted. "We should probably talk to them. Let them know they'll have to be on their guard."

"Right, right. I'll take the Maven of the Strings as my responsibility," Twisted Fate volunteered. "And unfortunately, looks like I'll have to go. I'll catch up with you two in a few days." His figure glowed as he channeled his teleportation once more, and disappeared from the room before either of them could stop him.

"Wonderful," Irelia grimaced. "The Dark Sovereign and I aren't exactly on the best of terms for obvious reasons, so it might be difficult for me to even get to talking to her."

"I'm pretty sure Fate realized which of the two ladies would be the easier to talk to," Jax agreed. "Still, we've got a job to do and we've got little time to waste." He looked at Irelia's bandaged arm. "Though I guess we can wait for tomorrow for things to happen. I'll make plans for us to pay a visit to Syndra, but until then I've got my own business to attend to, and you should rest." Jax got up and extinguished the dwindling flame from the candelabrum.

"Wait – you guys never answered the most important thing I needed answered!" Irelia stopped him.

"What?"

"The identity of the Ionian who has betrayed us to the Institute," she said worriedly.

There was a small silence, made even more uncomfortable by the unnatural darkness in the room. "I'm afraid we don't know that either. All I know is that there were cameras planted in the hallways of your residences, and the only person who could've planted those would be one of the Ionian champions. They're gone now," Jax added as Irelia gave him a look of a repulsion. "If you Ionians are as close as you say you are, then it's quite likely the one who's become a spy isn't doing it of their own free will, but was probably forced to by the Institute. But a spy's a spy. It's tough to say, but I don't think you can trust any one of them for now," Jax answered. He made his way to the door, with Irelia following behind as they once again emerged into the lighted hallways of the Institute. It took her a while for her eyes to adjust to the sudden brightness.

"Stay safe tonight." As she reopened her eyes to look at Jax, she noticed he was already gone.

She still didn't know how he managed to escape last night.

* * *

The sounds of busywork filled the medical ward that night. With nothing much else to do for a couple of hours, Irelia decided to pay a visit to her fellow champions who had sustained far greater injuries and thus had to remain in the ward a little longer. Soraka, who still had her hands full for the greater part of the day, pointed the Ionian towards a room down the hallway where she saw the Grand Duelist lying on a bed much like the one Irelia had woken up in earlier in the day. Fiora had sustained injuries much worse than Irelia's, as her entire leg and foot were wrapped up in bandages and lay atop a stack of pillows to ease the pressure.

"Ah, Irelia… I am sorry you have to see me in this ridiculous condition," Fiora greeted her weakly. "It is hardly befitting of Demacian nobility...heh." She looked off to the side of the bed where her rapier leaned against the wall, and sighed. "At least my arms are alright, so I can still use that if I have to."

Irelia had to smile. Even when she was seriously hurt, Fiora Laurent's sense of pride would never go down before her body did. At times it was frustrating when Fiora never knew when to let something go, but here it turned into sheer determination that the Ionian had to admire. "How long are you stuck in here? Your leg looks a lot worse off than my arm," she asked.

"The Starchild told me I still have to stay overnight," Fiora said resignedly. "I told her I would rather crawl to my quarters than be labeled infirm any longer, but she forced me to stay. So this is what it's like to feel crippled… it must be dreadfully boring," she joked.

"As much as it would amuse me to see you limp from one end of the Institute to another," Irelia agreed, "Soraka's right. We wouldn't want you to have another accident before you were fully healed else you might not end up 100% once you get back on the Fields." She wondered how her injuries would affect the duelist's combative prowess – there was many a time where Fiora had caught Irelia off guard with the sheer talent she held fighting an opponent one on one. Her signature move, the Blade Waltz, left her opponents dizzy as she ran circles around them, immune to retaliation. At this point, it was the most prominent sign of her identity, and any negative effect to it would prove disastrous.

"Bah," Fiora spat out in disgust. "I am a duelist, not an infant that has to be looked after. I do not know how long I can hold out without a task for me to succeed at. I need opponents to triumph over."

"Then you can start by winning over your own impatience," Irelia chided, a small smile forming on her face. "Wait for tomorrow, I'll come see you again and you can get over that restlessness then," she promised, starting to leave the room.

"Is that supposed to be a challenge?" Fiora taunted. "I will get my revenge on you from the last Jenga game we played, Will of the Blades!"

Irelia only laughed as she bid farewell to her friend. Spending a little more time visiting other champions, she noticed a recurring theme – their injuries, while serious, didn't seem fully crippling. She could only wonder what intended after-effects the instigator of the explosion had imagined for the champions. _Did it affect me too? _At the time, she hadn't been a very popular choice amongst summoners, and although she still felt very strong compared to other champions, Irelia wondered if these limitations were meant to hit her too. _And to whose advantage? If you tried to knock out all of the strongest champions, you'd have nothing more than a bunch of invalids on the Fields eventually. _Twisted Fate and Jax's knack for leaving things ambiguous didn't help Irelia in her attempts to make sense of the matter.

It was dark by the time she had left the Institute. As she made her way back to her residence, hoping to find another Ionian champion with which to perhaps have dinner, she remembered what Jax told her. _I don't think you can trust any one of them. _Perhaps she couldn't, but she had to see if anyone would act suspicious in her presence. She had just reached the bottom of the hill which marked her residence when a humanoid shadow appeared out of the ground in the likeness of a very familiar ninja.

_He's somewhere around here, _she thought as she clutched her bandaged arm. An unpleasant thought crossed her mind. Did the Master of Shadows have any involvement in this bomb plot? Looking all around, the darkness obscured her vision and showing no trace of the ninja near her, as far as her eyes could tell, which was not very far at all. Her spirit blades rose up around her as the shadow began to materialize into a full human.

"Greetings, Will of the Blades," said Zed.

* * *

**A/N: **Lots of shifty things going around. Why do Jax and Twisted Fate know so much about everything? Who could've figured that Riot's way of nerfing champions could be so violent? What's Zed up to? I might answer things in the next chapter. Maybe.


	5. The Dark Sovereign

Irelia had always wondered what the face of Death looked like – well, not exactly. Rather, as soon as she started thinking about such bleak thoughts she would shudder and turn her attention elsewhere. Zed's black mask, enhanced by the subtlety of a ninja and the severity of an assassin, seemed like an ideal prototype for death. Though she had some close experiences with the Master of Shadows on the Fields from time to time as he swooped upon her unexpectedly, the mere appearance of him seemingly rising from the ground, bordered by the darkness all around her, made the situation all the more unpleasant for Irelia. With her injured arm, she doubted she could hold off any assault he planned to throw at her for long.

"At ease," Zed assured her. "I am not here to strike you down. There are bigger matters to discuss."

"And that would be?" Irelia asked.

"It has come to my attention that the Institute of War is likely to orchestrate some kind of misfortune befalling the Dark Sovereign," the ninja informed her. He paused for a second, gauging Irelia's reaction, which hinted at no sign of emotion. "Judging by your lack of expression, this is not foreign news to you."

"I may know something about it, yes," she replied evenly.

"There is no need to talk in circles around me, bladeswoman," Zed hissed. "Is such an attack likely?"

She thought about it for a second, and decided to answer plainly for the ninja. "I did some investigation with a couple of other champions, and she does look like a prime target for their next move."

"Others… you are referring to the grandmaster and the gypsy," Zed guessed.

Irelia flinched. If a meeting supposedly held in secrecy had its confidentiality breached by another champion, what would stop the Institute from finding out their secret endeavors in a matter of time? "How would you know?" she asked of him.

"Never underestimate the power of the shadows," he simply answered her. "Tell me all you know about the motives of the Institute," Zed demanded.

Irelia wondered why the matter interested Zed so much. She did admit he and Syndra shared a lot in common – former Ionians shunned and banished for their less than pure motives, but did that similarity really allow a friendship to bloom?

"It is imperative that the safety of the Dark Sovereign be maintained," Zed continued. "You would not think differently if the matter would relate to any other champion, would you?"

"Of course not. In fact, Jax and I were arranging to talk to her tomorrow. If you so desired, I suppose you could be present for that. I trust that someone like you understands the importance of keeping this meeting a secret as well," she said.

"A secret kept is a weapon wasted," Zed challenged her.

"A secret kept is a weapon preserved," Irelia countered.

There was nothing signifying any change of emotion on the ninja's mask, but Zed seemed pleased with the answer. "There is nothing more to discuss. Notify me as to the time of your meeting. It will not be difficult to come in contact with me." Zed's shadow ran through her, and as he switched places with it, both he and his shadowy apparition vanished.

She couldn't fight the knee-jerk reaction of her putting a hand to her throat defensively as she shuddered and continued the trudge up the hill to her quarters.

All Irelia could hope for was that no further serious matters would disturb her for at least the time she spent eating dinner. As she stood outside the door of her companion she had chosen for tonight, she mused that her selection did befit her wish for a calm and pleasant dinner. The Enlightened One's perfection of maintaining inner peace with herself radiated that same tranquility towards others in her presence, and Irelia felt she could use some soothing right about now.

The brown-haired woman opened the door, clad in her customary light purple robes and holding a book of considerable size. "Evening, Karma," Irelia greeted warmly. "What were you reading?"

Karma lifted the book up so Irelia could get a glance at its title. _The Institute of War: Genesis. _"You seem strangely interested in the history of our dear Institute," she commented.

"Just familiarizing myself with the organization that took us in," her fellow Ionian answered. "There have been rumors circulating around which cast doubt upon the integrity of the Institute, so I've chosen to start from the very beginning of things and see for myself."

_News does travel fast around here. _"What have you heard?"

"Sources who don't quite tolerate the Institute as much as you and I do have been saying the Institute themselves were at the root of that terrible bomb plot. Upon what whims they were acting, I cannot say. Obviously this carries some sort of bias, but if it were even a little bit true, I should think we would fear for our safety," Karma said carefully.

Irelia nodded in agreement as Karma put her book away on her desk. "But let us put aside our worries for a second. Let us have peace, even if it is for one meal," she suggested as she closed the door to her room and led the way out of their residence.

The small café which the pair had chosen for their evening meal served cuisine inspired by the Ionian culture, which made it a favorite spot for many an Ionian champion to dine. Choosing a dimly lit booth nestled in a small alcove of the place, they took in the pleasant scents of the soup presented to them. Irelia idly stirred the hot broth before her as they continued their discussion of recent events.

"I've asked this question to others so many times I've grown tired of it – but do you yourself think the Institute is at all responsible for such an act?" Irelia asked.

Karma frowned. "Even though the authorities here and we the champions aren't exactly on the best of terms, I don't think they'd do something this horrific. I can't see any motivation for anyone to wish so much harm on other people if there wasn't some malicious intent for personal gain behind it. We've both suffered much in the past."

Irelia thought back to the Noxian invasion of their homeland. Seeing all the brutality and cold-heartedness of war sent a shiver down her spine as the recollections seeped back into her mind. She was about to express how the Institute now bore similar sentiments but realized Karma did not know as much as Jax and Twisted Fate told her. Deciding to not reveal all that she knew, she decided on a more neutral response. "Yes. Noxus clearly had evil intent at the time, but their aims were plain to see. The Institute is a lot more mysterious to you and to me. Nothing they've done has really screamed good intentions for me."

"At the same time, there is nothing directly malicious coming out from them," Karma suggested thoughtfully.

"You've always been one to see on the light side of things," Irelia observed of her friend.

"And you provide the shadow of doubt which follows after the light," Karma answered back. "Light and dark, opposites that need each other."

"To maintain the balance," Irelia finished the thought.

"Of course."

"Well," Irelia prodded, "if it wasn't the Institute, then who could've possibly done it? Who were they aiming for? You would have to be mad to attempt to target the Institute itself, a transnational organization designed to keep the peace between city-states with the powers of many of its champions at its disposal."

"You'd be surprised," her friend answered cryptically. "It seems the Institute may have some enemies in some shadowy circles around Runeterra."

"Like what? Or who?"

"I would not know. It is merely a possibility, if the perpetrator had designs for ruining the Institute itself," Karma shrugged.

"Maybe it was meant to target one of us champions specifically? There are a lot of people who have problems with any of us who would want some payback." Irelia wondered out loud. Though the evidence Jax and Twisted Fate had presented had soundly incriminated the Institute itself and discovered its motives, Irelia had wanted to believe there was something else out there that just had it out for a particularly champion. She had no idea who or what it could be, and for some reason the thought of an unknown enemy gave her more comfort than the idea that the Institute itself had turned upon them and was attempting to crush them from the inside. At least the lines were clear cut when you faced a distinctively apparent enemy. Betrayal was a crime much more grey than black and white, and the boundaries between friend and foe were overstepped and overlapped innumerable times.

"There is quite a lot out there we don't know," Karma commented generally. "It has not yet been even twenty-four hours since the event elapsed, and I can only hope that some more lucid evidence will shed light on the matter."

"What will you do in the meantime, Karma?" Irelia suddenly asked.

Her companion's ever-serene expression seemed to falter for a second before she regained her composure. "It has never been my job to seek out and to prosecute. I wish only to maintain the peace our people have known before and will continue to know as long as I draw breath. Though I am curious to know who exactly devised such a plot, I am not one to seek out and incriminate. When it is time for justice to be dealt, rest assured that I shall be there, to deliver judgment impartially as I would see fit."

Irelia understood her friend's outlook on the matter, even though it may have seemed a little pacific on the outside. "I've known you long enough to expect it of you, Karma. I'm not one to just stand by and watch the world continue to go on. I want answers. The pain I've felt myself, and the pain that others have gone through, pain much worse than mine, isn't just something I can let go." She thought of her impending meeting with the Dark Sovereign, of Jax and Twisted Fate's clandestine plans to seemingly unearth all that there was to know about the Institute and its relationship with the explosion, of the image of Zed in the night, flanked by the pale light of the moon, and red eyes behind that mask watching her, examining her, judging her. "I just want the answers." She didn't mean the answers solely to the accident. She wanted to know what was truly going on behind the scenes where the high summoners and the authorities played their games in the shadows. She wanted to discover what was truly underneath that grandmaster's hood.

"It's natural," Karma assured her. "If fate permits it, you will know. If not, then there are just some things not simply meant for people to understand."

"This isn't something mystical or spiritual," Irelia argued. "It's something that's impacted our lives and directly affected us. Something completely out of the ordinary."

"And I've known you long enough, Irelia, that your inquisitive nature is not going to let this down easily. But whatever is revealed, I know one thing for sure. Everything will end up the way it needs to be. Balance is the stitch which patches up the fabric of life."

* * *

The azure color of the infinitely stretching canvas above her seemed an unfitting backdrop to the meeting she was about to have, Irelia thought as she arrived on the rooftops of one of the Institute's buildings. It was a strange meeting place to be sure, but it seemed to satisfy the tastes of the Master of Shadows, the Dark Sovereign, and Jax as a neutral enough location for all of them to appear without any interference liable to come in during the meeting.

After her dinner with Karma the previous night, she had received a message on the monitor in her room from Jax indicating the time at which he and Syndra had agreed on holding the meeting. Wondering how Zed was going to receive such information, Irelia had stood looking out on her balcony when the wispy silhouette of the ninja had manifested itself on the railing. Slightly alarmed by the sudden appearance, she quickly understood what was going on and showed Jax's message to the shadow. Understanding, it made one quick spin before it disappeared in a black cloud of smoke.

And there she was with Jax, for it seemed like a good idea not to wander in alone when dealing with two of the most volatile beings of Ionia – rather, of Runeterra itself. The grandmaster simply took a seat at one of the picnic-style tables and looked out into the distance. If he was showing any anxiety, he was doing a very good job at hiding it.

Irelia spoke up. "How do you think they're going to take this?" she asked of her companion.

"Beats me. This is important, but Syndra's pride is one of the only things I would consider on par with her power. I'm not expecting her at all to take into consideration what we have to tell her, but I'm not obligated into persuading her. If she doesn't listen to our warning, then so be it. Can't blame us at this point," Jax replied.

"The Master of Shadows seemed very interested in things potentially happening to her," Irelia pointed out. "At least maybe he could help her understand?"

"Hard for me to believe Zed caring about anything other than making sure he always displayed strength and cunning. Don't take this the wrong way, but I'm glad you ran into him last night, as it probably made it easier for her to realize she should actually meet us for this," Jax threw out.

"Your evaluation of me is quite accurate," a steely voice greeted them as Zed materialized at the other side of the table, making Irelia jump up in self-defense and even Jax recoil a bit. "Perhaps a little cold, but satisfactory all the same." Storing his shurikens behind his back, he took a seat across from them. "The Sovereign will be arriving shortly. I hope what you are planning to tell her is of any use to us."

"That's for you to decide," Jax said, almost lazily.

"I have arrived," a commanding voice uttered, a slight echo reverberating in Irelia's ears as she noticed the Sovereign enter through the very doors from which she and Jax came. The floating figure, dressed in her trademark purple and black outfight, chose not to sit normally as the other three who had already taken their places had done, but hovered in the air above the table so as to face all of them equally.

"If it weren't for the insisting of the Master of Shadows, I might not even have come here," Syndra sneered. "What is it you have to tell me?" she demanded.

"It's the Institute," Jax began. "The champions who have the most popularity as of now are the ones most liable to be targeted by the Institute. The explosion two nights ago was meant to injure several champions who showed a lot of appeal to summoners all over Runeterra." He took out the documents and spread them out on the table for the ninja and the mage to see. "You can see for yourself that Syndra has commanded quite a large following in recent days, so it's likely that they're going to come for her next."

"Is that a threat?" the Dark Sovereign asked, dark spheres rising as if to threaten Jax.

"No, it's a fact," Jax answered, not backing down at the sudden tension. "You are probably in danger, and I have no idea how or when the Institute is going to strike. So you're going to have to watch your back."

"That is inconceivable!" Syndra protested, showing complete disbelief in anything Jax had to say. "Those people think they can control me… I, the embodiment of limitless power! I will crush anyone who thinks to oppose me," she continued in her manic raving.

"Syndra," Zed spoke up simply. "There is wisdom to be seen in his words. Even I shall admit it. The pattern of champions who have risen up in public approval have subsequently sustained unpleasant injuries in the weeks which soon followed their peak in popularity." He turned on Jax again. "Tell me, what is the purpose of such actions?"

Jax explained to him, much like he and Twisted Fate had previously told Irelia. "They seek to regain the power they once had by toying with their champions, throwing them into 'freak accidents.'"

Zed expressed nothing but disdain at such a thought. "Weaklings, relegated to taking cheap shots at the strong because they cannot take them down any other way." He looked at Syndra, who the entire time wore a look of amusement in her complete disregard for anyone to even think about stopping her power.

"Let them try to stop me," she taunted. "They will only serve as catalysts to expand my power even more!"

Irelia had had enough of her power-hungry charade. "You don't seem to understand," she interrupted. "It's not about this strength fantasy you insist on keeping up. It's not your life, but your abilities and your identity itself that's in danger. It's very likely things will happen to you which you may not expect. Why do you think we went to the trouble of notifying you if we didn't think it was important? The least you could do is to give our story some thought."

Syndra looked like she was about to unleash all her dark magic upon Irelia at that very moment, but Zed took the opportunity to speak before she could say anything. "It is noted. I shall keep a close eye on her, and your information is…appreciated." Irelia laughed to herself as she noticed the ninja's evident discomfort in speaking in conciliatory tones.

"So you are saying there are people from the Institute who are coming for me. People attempting to limit my powers once again?" Syndra inquired.

"You can't possibly like what this entails, but yes," Irelia managed to answer.

"Fools…" the sovereign mumbled to herself before continuing. "Is there anything required of me to do?"

"What? No… there's really nothing to expect," Irelia replied. "We don't even know of their methods of striking, or reducing the power of the targets they choose. All we know is that it's probably going to happen, and if it is, it's very soon."

"Then it seems it is necessary to increase the level of watchfulness…" Zed trailed off as he tilted his head to one side, noticing something amiss in the air. Rising up from his seat, he drew his shurikens and made his way to the rooftop's ledge. "Someone is here."

Everyone sprung into action at once, with Irelia summoning her spirit blades and Syndra animating the dark sphere which orbited around her. Jax did not bring his signature lamp post with him to the meeting, but no one ever worried for Jax's fighting abilities. Zed did not take his eyes away from the ledge as he slowly paced back and forth, trying to sense where the presence had gone.

A blur of movement sped past them, so quickly that Irelia had barely managed to register a change in their surroundings. It had collided with Syndra and slammed against the railing of the balcony as the three champions attempted to attack it. Now that the figure had stopped moving so quickly, they could make out its shape as a dark blue shape, completely covered in a skin-tight suit and mask to hide its face, holding out a hand over the slumped body of the Dark Sovereign. A pulse of red energy emanated from his palm and channeled its way down in a cone before making contact with Syndra's unmoving form. Zed had tried to close the distance with the help of his shadow, but before he could even aim a single strike at it, the figure unleashed a shockwave which threw all of them back. As they struggled to regain their footing, the figure suddenly stopped its channel, and as quickly as it had appeared, vanished in a flash of movement once again.

* * *

**A/N: **whenever I started out writing stories it would be all action, no character development. Now suddenly it's the other way around and I'm not sure if I'm impressed or not. I should probably write a chapter from Jax's perspective soon, might be a lot more intriguing rather than "guess who Irelia's talking to this chapter."


	6. The Disappearance

When Irelia gazed upon the unconscious form of the Dark Sovereign lying on the ground, she did not see a monster that had turned upon her own master who tried to limit her powers for the sake of the world. Instead, she saw a child who had been abandoned, left to grow up alone in this world, and was forced to live with her body as a vessel for some arcane power which was just itching to break out of its shell. Though her eyes were closed, she could still see the frightened look she made as that blue figure had sucked out the energy in her.

Zed had immediately rushed to her side as soon as the attacker had left the scene. A quick check of her pulse verified her continued existence, so the ninja promptly stood up and decided to show some semblance of taking charge. "She needs medical attention, now," he ordered. Slinging her prostrate body over his shoulder, he looked at the two top laners expectantly. "I need not repeat myself. Come with me," Zed urged as he quickly exited the rooftop via the door leading into the building and made his way down the steps at a speed which shouldn't have been possible for someone carrying another human in their arms.

The arrival of the Master of Shadows at the medical ward was shocking to Soraka and the attendants of the Institute working all around there, as the ninja was not one to make any injuries sustained on his body known to others. He never really got into any accidents anyways, due to his meticulous nature he adopted when doing things so as to not slip up in any way – even on the battlefield. Especially on the battlefield. Yet they attended to his demands as quickly as they could, laying the sorceress's form on a bed and bringing up a cart of medical equipment to make a diagnosis on her condition.

"There doesn't seem to be anything physically wrong with her," Soraka announced, visibly baffled. "Her breathing is normal, nothing unorthodox in her heart rate, and all her vital systems seem untouched. What exactly happened to her?"

Irelia stepped in. "We're not quite sure ourselves. Some lightning-quick blue figure suddenly materialized near us and threw Syndra against the railing. Then he performed what looked like some kind of energy draining technique on her for a couple of seconds and then left, just as quickly as it came in. None of us could get near it – it just knocked us back without even needing to move."

Zed gave his affirmation. "Believe what I am telling you when I say I have never seen an ability like that creature's, and I have been privy to the arts of the shadows for many years," he tried to speak evenly, but Irelia could sense his voice slightly faltering with emotion. So this power-hungry lunatic, this girl who didn't know the full extent of her powers, could mean so much to an exiled Kinkou ninja that she could cause such grief in him? Irelia wasn't sure which of the two surprised her more.

Soraka frowned at the explanation, at a loss for answers at well. "Maybe I should get the Kink – never mind," she abruptly stopped her sentence, realizing the people she was dealing with. "Someone around here should know something about energy draining. I have no formal equipment to measure what I naturally sense in her, but I do agree that the flow of magic is off in Syndra's body right now. I'll be back," she promised as she rushed out to get some more opinions on the matter.

Irelia wasn't exactly left with the greatest of company to bide the time waiting for Soraka's return: Jax sat on a chair, twirling a pair of medical scissors in his hand and seeming either bored or unfazed at the recent events, while Zed stood at the bedside, his gaze not leaving Syndra's body, watching each time her chest moved up and down as her breathing went on, hoping nothing would suddenly go wrong with her.

She wasn't sure how well asking this question would go, but she decided to go for it anyways. "Zed, why do you care so much about Syndra?"

He refused to meet her eyes as he continued to stare down at Syndra. "There are… few truly strong Ionians left in this current day. It is inconceivable for me to stand by and watch as misfortune befalls one of the others."

Despite his best efforts to answer in that perfectly controlled voice of his, Irelia wasn't taking such a copout from the Master of Shadows. "Now tell me your real reason for staying here, Zed."

This time, Zed turned to stare deeply into Irelia's eyes. She returned the favor, her irises aglow with expectancy as she showed no signs of flinching from Zed's gaze, which could unnerve many a person, especially with the unnatural countenance of his mask. "I am not about to lose a good friend."

The Starchild had returned with someone in tow whom Irelia was not expecting. Perhaps another healer would have been appropriate for the circumstances, like the Tidecaller or Sona. But this new arrival seemed a bit misplaced. Though she did show quite a bit of proficiency in playing the support role on the Fields, Irelia felt there were better choices. Besides, she stopped associating the cleric archetype with the support once she saw the use of a Void creature like Vel'Koz effectively adapting to that role.

The Lady of Luminosity didn't seem too perturbed at the sight, even though Syndra's presence would have usually made the Demacian shrink in her stature and look the other way as they crossed paths. After hearing Irelia retell the story of what happened, she continued to stand there in deep thought, arms crossed, wand lightly tapping against her arm, the balls of her feet moving up in down and showing signs of restlessness. But then she seemed to have come to a conclusion, and as cliché as it may have sounded, Irelia swore she saw a light go off from above Lux's head – or perhaps it was a byproduct of naturally being able to manipulate brightness.

"I've only read about this," she started, "but I do remember seeing something like this happen in one of the old Noxian field reports I've gone through. A person, quick as a flash, swoops in onto their target, holds them down to drain their energy, and disappears just as suddenly. If I recall, the Noxian necromancer who was the target of this strange technique woke up several days later out of his coma and found he had lost the majority of his powers."

Irelia's eyes had widened at the last part. "So, Syndra's going to lose almost everything she can do now? She's not going to be able to compete in the League if that happens." She stole a look at Zed, who was still eyeing the body, devoid of all emotion.

"I don't think that will be the case," Soraka stepped in. "Syndra's potential, as much as I hate to admit it, has not been even close to being fully realized. While the Institute did mention how they curbed her power much like her old master attempted to in the day, there is such a strong well of energy within her that it is impossible to fully tap into. She may suffer a drop in operating at one hundred percent, but it should not be such a significant tax on her overall strength in the end."

"That's not the end of it, though," Lux continued. "When they had asked the necromancer of what he remembered, he related an experience in the dream state where he saw that figure carrying what looked to be pure essence, like the type of material you'd see in Ahri's orb, and adding it to a huge web of essence which encircled…something. The necromancer couldn't see any more detail in the dream, so he couldn't figure out what that essence web was supposed to be containing. But because of that image, the Noxians referred to this entity as the Dreamweaver. That's my best guess as to what happened to Syndra." With every sentence Lux made she half expected Zed to lash out at her in anger, but he maintained his calm throughout her explanation.

"So, this too is a form of essence theft," Zed observed.

"Yeah," the blond Demacian answered, "but it's not like Ahri's where a person's soul is essentially sucked from them. I guess you could say this is a less severe attack, but what frightened Noxians about the story was the fact that this Dreamweaver was building towards something. Whether it was something to unleash or something to restrain is a whole different question."

* * *

They had determined that Syndra, too, had to stay overnight in the ward as she still had not regained consciousness. Not willing to remain much longer, Jax decided to take his leave as Irelia followed him out, leaving Zed sitting at the sovereign's bedside continuing his solitary vigil.

"Fate's supposed to report to me any time soon, but I haven't gotten any word of him yet," Jax said as they had returned outside once more. "Once we do, we're heading over to him to see what became of the Maven of the Strings, but until then, this time is ours."

"Alright," Irelia replied autonomously. She was still caught up in Lux's description of the figure which had come to them, mesmerized by the tale. A being which took the energy of others to harvest it for some unknown purpose, to feed some other unknown entity, unnerved her. "What do you make of Lux's story, Jax?"

The grandmaster shrugged. "The way I see it, it's nothing more than an old Noxian wives' tale. I wouldn't have given that dream sequence a second look, but since we've actually seen this Dreamweaver thing for ourselves, it's very likely that this web of essence is lying out there somewhere, and I don't want to know what it'll unleash. This thing seems fearsome to take on, but if we want to get to the bottom of this mystery, as well as stop any future attacks on our magic-using champions, we have to do it." Irelia could only nod in reply, not as confident as Jax seemed to be in undertaking such an endeavor.

Despite her fears, she was thankful for the break in their efforts. Irelia informed him she was going to pay a visit to Fiora, who she had promised to see after the latter had finalized her recovery. The duelist's leg had not completely returned to full functionality, and neither had Irelia's arm really, but Fiora had stubbornly insisted Irelia come for a friendly duel. "We are both at a disadvantage, so it is still fair," she had reasoned.

"I'll come along," Jax offered as Irelia began to make her way to the fencing room in which Fiora wanted them to meet.

The Ionian arched an eyebrow. "Really? I don't think you'd be interested in seeing some friendly sparring, because considering our wounds, it's not going to be refined like our techniques are out on the Fields."

"I'm all for the thrill of battle," he simply replied. "After being in the middle of so much violence, you start to get used to it. You want it, even."

Irelia knew of Jax's backstory, his past as a common mercenary, but nothing really in between his beginnings and his claim to fame, a suspicious entrance into the League and subsequently a myriad of wins which remained to this day and earned him his reputation as the most prolific champion on the Fields. "You have to indulge me. I don't know much about you besides what everyone always says. All of a sudden you just burst onto the scene, and suddenly you were the champion, a juggernaut, undefeated, undisputed. Is fighting really all you've done?" She didn't mean to ask in a condescending tone – she was genuinely curious.

"War does that to you," Jax answered emptily. "There's really nothing to be said about what I've done. The Institute probably has every single one of my battles documented, but I've been badgered about that endlessly. Let's just go meet Laurent."

The y walked along the rest of the journey in silence until they finally entered the room. The brown-haired swordfighter, clad in her traditional swordfighter outfit, had been waiting not too patiently, but Irelia knew Fiora wasn't impatient out of frustration, just out of eagerness. "Well, if it isn't the Grandmaster himself," Fiora greeted him. "Have you come to watch our magnificent performance?"

"I'm only here to watch you two whack each other with swords, and judging by the look of your leg, I'd be more concerned about making sure you don't trip over yourself," he joked in a tone in which Irelia couldn't exactly tell if he was joking or not. "I'll be the one who needs entertaining."

A frown grew over the duelist's face as she didn't receive the comment gracefully. "Ungrateful knave," she spat as she lifted her rapier to the tip of Jax's mask. "I'll show you entertainment!" Unperturbed, Jax went to lean against the wall to spectate, arms crossed.

Irelia turned to look at the duelist opposite her. "You know, we don't have to go too hard. I don't really have to rely on my arm as much as you do you leg, considering I don't actually have to lift my bl –"

"En garde!" Fiora yelled, quickly lunging forward as Irelia was busy talking. It took all of her instinctive reflexes to sidestep the blade as it whizzed past her face, and she could see a small smirk form on the duelist's face.

"Okay, if that's the way it's going to be…" Irelia answered mischievously. Willing her blades to move as her hands directed them, she split them into two halves to bear down on Fiora from both sides. The Demacian dodged to her left, then to her right as the blades harmlessly cut through the air where she had once stood, and continued her assault by using the momentum she had from sidestepping to turn around and aim a horizontal slash at Irelia's waist. Using one blade to intercept the blow, she used the other to lash out at Fiora, who couldn't quite move out of the way quickly enough before the blade nicked at her shoulder.

"Not bad," she conceded as she backed away to reevaluate her plan of attack. Irelia had only a moment of repose before Fiora's assault came again, a series of quick strikes which didn't necessarily aim to strike at her body, but only served to gauge how she defended, whether it be with a block from her blades or moving out of the way to avoid the rapier entirely. She noticed Irelia was favoring a defense by shielding herself with her blades. Irelia had the advantage there as she could move her blades in a much more fluid series of motions than Fiora could, being limited to the flexibility and swiftness of her blade arm, but Fiora was by far the more experienced fighter, having practiced the art since she was a little girl. Her next strike aimed low, and unsurprisingly, Irelia allocated one blade to the defense of her legs, but Fiora, expecting this, cancelled her attack mid-strike and took a step closer, now swinging her rapier at the other half of Irelia's spirit blade, knocking it out of Irelia's control for a second. As the Ionian struggled to regain telepathic control of her blades, Fiora took the opportunity to expertly land a shallow slash at Irelia's elbow.

Because of the specific properties of the dueling room which allowed for the immediate recovery of such wounds sustained when sparring, the cut immediately healed up, but Irelia realized Fiora had gotten the first real strike in their match. "First blood," she announced with a victorious grin on her face.

"I'll give you that," Irelia admitted, but refused to take her foot off the gas, reinitiating the fight by forcing her blades forward at Fiora's torso. The duelist easily stepped back, but Irelia was expecting this and willed herself to launch her body forwards toward the blades, arriving in front of Fiora much too quickly than she had expected. Her blades shifted into a horizontal angle and she unleashed a fast strike at Fiora's side while the duelist was still gaining her orientation. The Equilibrium Strike could only be effective at certain intervals, and one was when Irelia didn't have the upper hand against her opponent. But now with the scales evened from her counterattack, she could continue her assault as Fiora was still a bit dazed from the hit. Fiora was no slouch in her reply, as she was able to successfully parry another strike from Irelia, forcing her to reassemble her blades into one piece as she fought against Fiora's relentless assault. A rush of adrenaline quickened Fiora's attacks to the point where Irelia could not manage to block every one, and she could see her endurance failing, no thanks to the wounded condition her arm was in which prevented her from commanding her blades at her fullest. With victory in her sights, Fiora prepared to unleash her signature Blade Waltz, dashing first behind Irelia, and then appearing all around her at various angles, striking with blinding speed. Unfortunately for the swordsmistress, she had underestimated her agility and her own injury had gotten the best of her, forcing her to trip over her own feet as she came out of the technique. The Ionian took the advantage to lightly point her blade at Fiora's back. "I guess," she panted, "I still win."

The duelist uttered a groan as she moved away from the blade and, with a bit of difficulty, regained her footing. "This accursed injury… I do admit defeat, but it was a travesty that we had to fight under suboptimal conditions. I assure you things will be different when I am back at perfect form!"

"You just keep telling yourself that, Laurent," Jax called out from the edge of the room. He had been watching every second of the fight with great interest, and took note of a couple of mistakes the two women had made. "Let's not pretend you were exactly the paragon of immaculate form," he lectured. "Your footing could use some work. When you're against someone with a unique fighting style like Irelia here, you can't assume they have the same range as you, even though you're both fighting with swords. She has the distinct range advantage over you, so you have to counter that by getting up in her face all the time. You were battling in a _misura larga _position, not a _misura stretta. _There's no need to fear those blades when you're up close, but it's at a distance that you should respect them. The one move that gave you first blood gave you an advantage, but you failed to capitalize on that."

Fiora tried to take the criticism at best as she could, but she knew Jax was right, having suffered many losses from him on the Fields when they went head to head. "I… I suppose you're right."

He turned to Irelia. "Can't really give you such accurate commentary due to the strange nature of your blades, kid, but you did alright. I would say you're too predictable. The advantage of having blades which can move every which way, it looks like, should make you a much more volatile fighter. Your opponents shouldn't be able to anticipate your moves. There's a reason why I'm able to counter you more often than not. I'm not too familiar with the Hiten style, but I do know from my times in Ionia that the swordsmen there had a much more elegant flow to their blades. It reminded me of a stream of water approaching a cliff – when it reaches the cascade, the clear elegance transforms into a thundering fury."

Irelia nodded. "Thank you, Jax." There was no question that the Grandmaster at Arms obviously had one of the best grasps of the concept of fighting, showing specific knowledge of the backgrounds Fiora and Irelia were raised in. _I suppose you went around to a lot of places doing your mercenary work, huh? _This only raised the question of Jax's origins. No one had any idea where he had been born, and as far as anyone could tell, his mannerisms didn't reveal the behaviors of any specific region. _Such an enigma. _

"Well, monsieur Grandmaster," Fiora taunted, "I suppose you wouldn't be afraid of facing me next, after all your big talk. You should be able to find a suitable weapon here with which to duel me."

Jax pushed himself off the wall. "You're really asking for it kid, but if you want a challenge, I'll give it to you…"

A sudden appearance of three brown ocular objects above their heads cut their designs short. This time, Irelia understood what was coming. "Fate?" Jax asked. "There's no reason he should come directly to me unless the matter's urgent."

"What?" Fiora asked, much more out of the loop than the other two. "What's going on?"

"The Card Master's got something important to say to us," Jax told her.

The golden steps appeared once more, and out of the light which shimmered came Twisted Fate, who was not looking all that happy as he stepped out of the brightness and looked directly at Jax and Irelia.

"We've got a problem with Sona. It's that instrument of hers," he spoke quickly, his breath quick from the effort he seemed to have made in arriving.

"What is it?" Irelia inquired.

"The etwahl," Twisted Fate continued. "It's gone."

* * *

**A/N: **Updates aren't coming super quickly anymore as I'm getting busier with stuff. Kinda miffed that this turned into another character development thing, but at least there's some plot fowarding here. Trying not to really hint at Zed x Syndra here, as this is more of an adventure-themed story.

Now, some fencing terminology. I stole this from the Web, so I take no credit to knowing about swordplay prior to writing this chapter.

_Misura larga - _a distance which can be covered by a step or a lunge

_Misura stretta - _a distance which can be covered simply by a lean

The next chapters which deal with the champions actually encountering this mysterious being should be more eventful. I seem to continue introducing more character interactions with Irelia and Jax and I am willing to entertain suggestions for appearances in the next chapter.


	7. The Directives

They say that if you truly wish to know a man, walk a mile in his shoes. After nicking the shoes of a hundred or so bandits who had the misfortune to cross his path during a Frejlordian raid, Jax considered himself a good judge of character, and he could usually tell when someone was completely bullshitting him. Even the grand weasel himself, Twisted Fate, who could normally come up with some extravagant lies to extricate himself out of some sticky situations, couldn't hide the truth from the observant look of the Grandmaster at Arms. He had to admit, however, that Fate did impress him a few times when he told wild stories at the bar which, of course, had not a grain of truth in them.

Jax really hoped this was one of those times.

Unfortunately, it was not, and between Irelia's omnipresent worried expression, Laurent's hopeless confusion, and Fate's genuine panicking, Jax realized he was in it for the long haul, and he was going to end up having to do the carrying this time. Again.

A few choice responses came to mind, but he decided not to beat around the tribush any longer than he needed to. "Tell me what happened."

Twisted Fate, seeming to regain his composure, began to speak. "I met up with the girl in her room this morning like we agreed to, and started giving her the rundown on what was happening to all the other champions. She was frightened, but quite a lot of things scare her. About half an hour ago some figure all in blue appeared out of nowhere in the middle of her room. At first I thought it was one of those Kinkou ninjas on some secret clan duties, not that I would approve of that in the first place, but this thing didn't exactly seem human. I was glad I was dealing with a mute girl because I was sure a scream from her would pierce my eardrums. Instead I noticed how she jumped in her seat halfway up the ceiling as it made its way towards her. I tried to make a move to protect her, but before I could even draw a card from up my sleeve it had looked at me and forced me back against the wall without even laying a hand on me." Jax nodded. It looked like Fate also had a run-in with that thing the Noxians called the Dreamweaver.

"She reached for her instrument to try and force it back, but it got to the etwahl first and took it into its hands. Then it turned on her. I was sure it was going to attack her and I couldn't do anything to stop it, but all that happened is that it emitted a red ray of light from its hand which bore into her chest and looked like it was absorbing something from her. The girl went out cold immediately, and I feared the worst, but all of a sudden the thing stopped its absorption and just disappeared. Out in a flash, taking the etwahl with it. Then I was able to move, and I ran out of the room, hoping to see where it went, but there was no trail to follow. I chased down the hallways, thinking the only way it could've gotten out of the residence was down the stairs and out the doors, but I was a fool. This thing just bypasses walls and other boundaries, a lot like my Destiny. Speaking of which, I tried to use it to find out where it went, but nothing popped up in my true sight. As if it had just vanished from this plane of existence or something. So I had nothing to do but return to the room and try to get the girl to wake up, but she was still unconscious, and as of now she hadn't woken up. I managed to take her down to the medical ward before I came here as fast as I could," Fate finished, his voice breathless from trying to rush his story.

"Twisted Fate, don't beat yourself up about it," Irelia chimed in. "The exact same thing happened with us when we went to confront Syndra earlier."

Jax nodded. "Weird blue creature, same red energy drain. We checked in with the medical ward to drop the Sovereign off and the little Crownguard girl said the Noxians had seen this thing before in an old field report. Called it the Dreamweaver. We have no idea what this thing does besides extract some magical power from mages and then leaves."

"And take magical instruments too, apparently!" Fate replied. "We have to start looking for the etwahl as soon as we can."

"Well, well, you were never the particularly generous type, Fate," Jax commented. "I'm all for helping the Buvelle girl out, but we have to think first," he said, turning the pace of the conversation down. "Besides, with some supernatural – even by our standards – creature on the loose, do you really think you can just run down the nearest hallway and expect it to be walking by? We're going to have to start thinking about this.

"Now, let's see. Although we've mapped out quite a bit of the Institute's activities, there's still a lot of that iceberg that we haven't even seen. We're going to need to as much information as we can gather, so I'm thinking we assemble a team of champions particularly skilled in this investigative business and scope out every inch of this Institute that we can. I know for a fact that the Institute monitors everything that comes in and out of this place, so if this Dreamweaver character is running around just knocking out champions left and right, it has to be somewhere on site," Jax thought aloud.

"You're crazy, Jax," Fate said. "We don't have time for this team nonsense. We've got to hurry. Sona's still knocked out and –"

"You're going to have to slow down there, bud," Jax interrupted. "You just dropped the poor girl at the medical ward and came to see us? What did the staff say? Did Soraka take her in?"

Fate scratched the back of his head. "Honestly, I was in too much of a hurry to hang around to see what kind of odd medical treatment they were going to give her. I gave the girl to the Starchild and she said she'd take it from there."

It took all his willpower for Jax to not facepalm right there. "I'm glad you have your priorities straight, Fate. Well, let's get a move on. The safety of Sona is our highest concern right now," he instructed as he made his way for the door.

Fiora tried to stop him, yelling at him from behind his back. "You still haven't told me what's going on!"

"You'll see. Don't be holding up the rear now," Jax answered casually, not stopping for a second.

"I'll fill you in," Irelia offered, and off they went.

* * *

"She's holding up much better than the Dark Sovereign, considering they were attacked in the same way," the Starchild told him. "I would expect her to get up by this evening."

Jax wasn't satisfied. "We need the answers now," he demanded, trying not to sound too commanding. "Don't you have stronger magic for this kind of stuff?"

Soraka looked like she was hiding something, trying to decide between one thing and another. "I… suppose there is a way. It's a very extreme procedure, and I'll be too physically drained to do anything else today. And I'll only do something like this if it was a total emergency, but by the way Twisted Fate came in here, and this whole Dreamweaver incident, I guess you really do need it."

Jax nodded. "It would be a great help to us if you were to give us your aid," he said in a more respectful tone.

The Starchild returned his nod, gesturing them to follow her to the bed where she had deposited the musician. Her facial features had tensed, an expression of terror having manifested onto her face from her ordeal a short while back. Grasping her staff with two hands, Soraka muttered an incantation, probably a spell she had used from the times she was a true celestial being. The air began to glow and golden sparks began to flow out of the tip of the staff, weaving their way into Sona's body. Her skin began to regain its color, and her eyes slowly fluttered open, while the Starchild, exhausted from her efforts, collapsed into a chair next to the bed. Sona slowly sat up in the bed, wondering what was going on and why there were so many people in the room, but she was naturally patient, and quietly sat there while waiting for people to explain.

"It's done," she managed. "Someone should bond with her. I don't expect her to be nearly at full strength, but she should be able to talk at least."

Jax understood what she meant. Because the Maven of the Strings was a mute, her only way of communicating was by linking her thoughts with someone else. When summoners opted to play her on the Fields of Justice, a connection linking her mind with the summoner's was created in order for them to share thoughts. In this way, they were able to hear her 'voice' as they entered her consciousness. When Sona wished to communicate outside the Fields, however, it was slightly more complicated, especially in large groups. She could still create a mental connection, but the bond would only work with one person, so they would serve as a "translator" if Sona wanted to speak up, in a sense.

"I'll do it," Irelia offered, moving up to stand by Sona's bedside. "Are you strong enough to bond with me?" she asked. The maven nodded, gesturing for Irelia to give her hand so they could make the connection. Meanwhile, the Ionian was explaining the situation as gently as she could – Sona's emotions were quite fragile, and Irelia wasn't sure how much she remembered. The loss of her etwahl would shock her if she didn't immediately realize it was missing.

As it turned out, she was suffering from a short memory lapse, and when she noticed the lack of her instrument, it seemed to Jax that she almost suffered a heart attack in the bed. With Irelia there to calm her and listen to her frantic thoughts, however, she managed to regain her composure. "She says she felt the Dreamweaver attempt to take her very soul," Irelia relayed. "When she went unconscious, she had some vision of the Dreamweaver and this huge web of essence, just like in the story Lux told us."

"So the stories are true," Fiora commented.

Irelia continued. "Sona's telling me that even though her etwahl is missing, she can sense its presence by the magical energy it gives off. She's attuned to its frequency, conveniently enough, but she's not in any condition to go off looking for it, especially when we have the Dreamweaver to deal with, and whatever it can do."

Jax considered this for a moment. "Does she know where it is right now?"

Irelia said nothing for a moment, waiting for Sona's transmission of her own thoughts. "It's… in one of the eastern summoning chambers."

Fiora gulped. "It can't be… with the Harbinger of Doom?"

Irelia shook her head. "Thankfully not. Dealing with Fiddlesticks is impossible. No, but it is pretty close to his chamber, so it's kind of ominous to walk over there. Summoning chamber eight, one of those abandoned ones that no one seems to use because no one really wants to go that close to Fiddlesticks."

"Then we'll deal with the Dreamweaver now and get back the etwahl," Jax suggested.

"Hold on, partner," Twisted Fate intervened. "Are you mad? That thing just knocked two champions unconscious, one of them being that damn Dark Sovereign herself, and you think you can just waltz on in and give him a good whack on the head with your lamppost, say thanks for the etwahl, and stroll on out like nothing happened?"

"Of course not," Jax answered. "Don't be ridiculous, Fate."

"But… then what are you –"

"We're going back to my idea earlier about constructing a team. I guess we don't need anyone to track down the whereabouts of the Dreamweaver since Sona already told us where her etwahl is, but a strong mage with some protective ability would work wonders so we don't all immediately find ourselves thrown around like rag dolls at the mercy of this thing."

"So, who would you suggest?" the Will of the Blades inquired.

Jax rattled the people off as he named them off his gloved, three-fingered hands. "We want the Night Hunter for sure. She's been hunting things like these for years and she has the combat experience necessary when it comes to fighting it. Next I'm going out on a limb and go for the Void Walker. We need someone who knows about the strange magic in the world, and Kassadin also has first-hand experience, not to mention that resilience from messing around with the Void for that long. Lastly… that Crownguard girl will work."

"What?" Fiora protested. "What do you see in that little brat? She has nowhere near the sophistication required for one of these… delicate missions."

"Relax, Laurent, you're in too," Jax assured her. "The Crownguard girl's done some really good undercover work behind the backs of the Noxian High Command. Her skill set for this case would be invaluable, not to mention her magic provides us with the shield we need to stop the thing's initial assault so we can actually figure out what else it can do. As another Demacian, shouldn't you have known that?"

If Fiora had a repulsed face, this was definitely it. "She'll do nothing but mess up the whole operation. And when you end up with your powers sucked out of you by this Dreamweaver thing, I won't be the one wondering why."

Irelia stepped forward, attempting to calm her fellow swordfighter down. "Come on, Fiora, you have to admit Lux is pretty good at what she does. I have to agree with her, though, Jax. Why not people like Caitlin and Vi? They seem like the natural champions to select if we're going to make a team to do some digging and taking down criminals… even if this isn't exactly your average bank robbery."

"That's the problem," Jax explained. "No offense to the Piltover ladies, but the Institute would expect them to be on to something. Wouldn't want anything to leak out into very capable hands. The Institute themselves are going to require their services for their totally staged "investigation" team anyways, so they're out of the question. We need people lower-profile."

The others nodded their heads in realization. "So what are we going to do now?" Twisted Fate inquired. "We can't just leave the Maven's etwahl in the hands of that… thing."

"And we're not," Jax agreed. "The group we have right here can recover the etwahl itself, if we can just get the help of the three champions I mentioned. Fiora, you're a Demacian, you should be able to find the Crownguard girl easily. Irelia, go ahead and convince Vayne to join us. Fate… you're coming with me to talk to Kassadin."

"Why am I stuck with talking to the brat?" Laurent complalined.

"You're playing this out much easier than it actually is, Jax," Fate intervened. "You're taking it for granted that these three champions will just happen to be lying around just waiting for us to go up to them and beg them to help us deal with this thing they probably haven't heard of before, besides the Crownguard lass. This is something that can take any powers that they have and pretty much cripple their fighting capabilities for who knows how long! Even we ourselves are at risk of getting harmed." He stopped speaking for a second, reflecting on the situation and what he was finding himself pulled into. "Call it a gut feeling, but I don't like the way the cards are stacked for this one."

"You're always going on about luck," Jax complained, if a bit sardonically. "You need to realize we can't just sit here weighing the risks of this mission, trying to see if we can pull this off or not. You were the one who was urging us to do something, for crying out loud."

"And by something, I didn't mean charge in recklessly to fight this monster that we just heard about!" Fate answered. "I'm usually the lucky one here, and I'll tell you flat out that the odds are not in our favor."

"This isn't about odds. It's about our capabilities. It's what we actually can and cannot do, and I believe we are definitely capable of seeing this through," Jax spoke with finality.

Fortunately, the others in the room showed that they weren't completely brain dead sheep and pitched in to help back him up. "I agree, and so does Sona. We weren't made League Champions for no reason," Irelia chipped in. "With seven of us, we should stand at least a fighting chance. Or are you scared your cards won't do anything to it, Twisted Fate?"

"You're making jabs at me for no good reason," Fate said, exasperated, "but fine, I'll give in. Let's go find them."

The Grand Duelist huffed and made her way out unceremoniously. Jax wasn't worried about Fiora, he already knew Lux was willing to help. Irelia's mission was a bit more complicated, but he figured Vayne would act at least a little reasonable when it came to hunting down the evil which lurked on Runeterra. Kassadin was the only large variable in this case, but he wasn't some kind of monster byproduct the Void had created – he used to be human too, and he took it upon himself to weather the harshness of the Void's corruption to protect others from it. If that wasn't benevolence, Jax thought, nothing was.

"Sona wishes us all good luck and hopes we'll all be safe," Irelia translated one last time.

"Cheers," Jax acknowledged as he and Fate made their way to find the Void Walker.

* * *

For someone who had wagered their life's work on the pursuit of knowledge and ended up a miserable wreck like Kassadin, one would think he would terminate such a dangerous chase after his entanglement with the Void. However, it was no such case, and Jax and Twisted Fate easily found their quarry poring over some alchemic scrolls in a secluded section of the Institute's library. Though his alien appearance would normally perturb a normal person, both the League champions and the summoners became used to his presence, having been one of the oldest members of the League of Legends and displaying relatively positive relations with both types of inhabitants.

The tentacle-like appendages which adorned the Void Walker's face quivered as he sensed the presence of two other life forms approaching him. Marking his place on the scroll carefully, he folded it and glanced upwards. "The Grandmaster at Arms. The Card Master," Kassadin greeted them in that mostly robotic, with a slight sense of humanity trapped inside, tone of his.

"Kassadin, I'm going to cut the pleasantries," Jax made his way to the point quickly. "We've got a proposition for you, and we think your skill set could be of use." He retold the story, starting with the Dreamweaver's assault on Syndra and ending with their decision to create a team to reclaim the etwahl.

Kassadin said nothing for a very long time, his gaze reaching past them with pupil-less eyes, a result of the Void's decadence.

When he finally spoke, it was no words of comfort. "This creature you speak of… I'm afraid it is something I have encountered before."

Twisted Fate spoke up anxiously. "So you've fought it before?"

"I hate to be the bringer of bad news, but this… Dreamweaver had been one of the most formidable enemies I had the displeasure of encountering during my imprisonment within the Void. I knew I would rue the day when the Scourge of the Depths once again walked upon this earth."

* * *

**A/N: **this update took a while cause I had midterms and then I was lazy. Then this chapter ended up being 95% dialogue and even though I did get a Jax POV in, I didn't get the grand conflict with the Dreamweaver I had wanted set up. Next chapter though.


	8. The Dreamweaver

The songs often told of courageous heroes, glorious battles, and chivalric deeds. But if Irelia could trust herself to know anything about the Night Hunter, it was that the most formidable warriors were really the ones in the shadows.

Shauna Vayne had went under the radar for much of her time in the League, her secretive nature as well as her reserved appearance making it difficult for people to get to her, and not appealing to try for in the first place. Most had heard the rumors of her vocation as a slayer of the horrors and abominations which lurked in every dark corner of Runeterra, and normally people would look upon such deeds as heroic, perhaps even something to be glorified. But when people noticed Vayne, an aura of discomfort inevitably surrounded them, to the point where they could only muster a few fumbled formalities and walk away. It was strange, considering Lucian, another champion whose backstory was quite similar, did not create such uneasiness in others. Perhaps it was the clarity of his past, as he made his purpose clear: to avenge the death of his wife, Senna, by eliminating the scourges of the Shadow Isles once and for all, beginning with Thresh, the Chain Warden. Many could sympathize with Lucian's loss and therefore his goals, but with Vayne no one knew what she was thinking, or what her aims were as a champion of the League. To hunt down evil seemed noble enough, but with no clear enemy to point out, unlike in Lucian's case, no one could ever put a finger directly on Vayne's intentions.

In addition to all that, Irelia always felt those red-rimmed shades unnerved her. Not being able to see the eyes of someone would likely unnerve you, and it would be hard to scrutinize the nature of a person who hides behind a dubious piece of eyewear.

That was why Irelia had a sense of apprehension during the entire walk to the Night Hunter's quarters, a private suite far away from the more lively residences. As someone who made it their purpose to extinguish the evils off the earth, it would make sense for them to prefer alone time so they could make progress on their work without being bothered.

As such, it wasn't a surprise when Vayne answered the door with a look of irritation on her face as she beheld her visitor. "How can I help you, Will of the Blades?" she asked curtly, the tension in her voice hinting that she was probably at work on some important matters.

"Uh… hello, Vayne," Irelia said. "I was wondering if you could help a few of us out. It's a situation where we think we may need your expertise."

The Night Hunter frowned. "I sense there is a story behind this."

"I can explain to you quickly; we don't have much time on our hands –" Irelia spoke hurriedly.

"Come in," Vayne instructed, as Irelia entered the room and the Demacian closed the door.

"Have a seat," she offered, as Irelia watched her stride to a table where Vayne's huge crossbow lay. The Night Hunter had been in the process of cleaning it and refitting the strings, it seemed. "So, about your story."

"Oh, yes," Irelia said, beginning to relay the tale yet again. She wondered how many champions would get involved in the matter, hoping that the number wouldn't be too much higher.

Vayne said nothing as she listened to the description of their situation, the only expressions coming out of her being a slight nod of acknowledgement every now and then. Once Irelia had finished, she walked over to the table and slung her crossbow over her back.

"It's good that I just finished patching this up, then," she commented.

"So, you're going to help us?" Irelia asked.

Vayne nodded. "There are several abominations which are high on my list, but it seems the League has a creature on the loose more dangerous than anything I have encountered in my independent travels. And I would not let those who harm a fellow Demacian go unpunished."

Irelia thought the last statement was odd. Although she knew Vayne had Demacian origins, she never really associated with the Demacian champions and chose to remain independent of any faction. No one really thought of Sona, either, when considering champions aligned with Demacia – in fact, Irelia knew that Sona's true origins, or at least as close to origins as one can get, lay in Ionia, on the doorstep of an adoption house. It wasn't until she was taken in by that one Demacian lady, Lady Buvelle, if Irelia remembered correctly, that Sona actually took residence in the city-state. "I never knew you to be so loyal to your compatriots," Irelia told her.

"It is more about the person herself rather than the nation she hails from," Vayne replied, adjusting her previous statement. "The Maven of the Strings is hardly like those pompous aristocrats that Demacia claims to call nobility. She has always been quite kind, and we are on favorable terms. It is my duty to help a friend in need."

"That is true," Irelia agreed. "Well, there's no time to waste. We should head out," she said, rising from her chair and opening the door to allow Vayne to pass through first.

The markswoman fitted a silver-tipped arrow to the crossbow fitted to her wrist. "Time for reckoning."

* * *

The stone doors which marked the entrance to summoning chamber eight stood expressionless and forbidding. Behind them, Irelia knew, lay the instrument they sought – Sona's etwahl. Yet she knew that the Dreamweaver would be guarding it, and even though their group numbered seven formidable champions of the League, she still felt a wave of anxiety as she wondered if they were strong enough to take it down.

She turned to Jax. "Are we ready to face this?"

The grandmaster looked at her – damn that man, why did he always have to wear that hood? – without revealing any sort of emotion. "No," he said. "But we'll do it anyways."

She had never expected him to be unconfident about any sort of challenge. Apparently his and Twisted Fate's meeting with Kassadin led to some unpleasant revelations from the Void Walker, which was supported by the gypsy's sullen appearance as they met with the rest of the group. On the other side of the spectrum, Lux seemed to be in her usual chipper behavior, but for the most part, everyone was just standing around wordlessly, internally preparing themselves for the conflict. The proximity to Fiddlesticks' chamber certainly didn't help the party, as Irelia could feel a slight aura of dread emanating from that room, seeming to tear away at her defenses already.

Since Kassadin was the only one of the group with any previous experience dealing with their opponent, he attempted to formulate some kind of strategy to do battle against it, but even he only had unsuccessful grapples with it. The powers Kassadin inherited from the Void seemed to be his way of withstanding its assault, as his natural resistance to magic made him a tougher subject to drain energy from than Syndra or Sona. Out of the rest of the group, Twisted Fate and Lux relied on their magic to use their abilities, which made them easy targets for the Dreamweaver to incapacitate them easily. The Lady of Luminosity could use her abilities defensively, so they assigned her to the task of acting reactively to any threats, and to ensure the recovery of the etwahl. As for Twisted Fate, he didn't seem too pleased with the prospect of being singled out. His power of Destiny didn't seem to be of much use when it couldn't spot the Dreamweaver, so he would have to make sure he chose his cards carefully.

Though the Dreamweaver seemed to effortlessly brush away Zed's assault from earlier, they felt that an assault from many different angles couldn't be dealt with as easily, so with three of them charging towards it at melee range while Vayne did her best to run in circles around it, piercing it with her arrows, the fight would go, if not smoothly, at least better than all their previous encounters with the creature.

"Here goes," Jax announced as he swung open the doors to the summoning chamber.

The room was empty, as far as they could tell in the obscurity. Lux quickly summoned a light to lead their way, but it illuminated nothing but the walls which towered over them. The brightness only covered a modestly- sized area in front of them, so the corners of the room were still shrouded in darkness, and Irelia anticipated a sudden assault from any of those angles.

As they continued into the middle of the chamber, where a circular platform with steps leading up to it lay, they spotted the etwahl, which looked to be undamaged and in perfect condition. Though it looked undefended, no one was really willing to walk up to it, knowing that it was what the monster was waiting for. So they stood there, diverting their looks from the platform to the darkness all around and wondering what they should do.

"So, are we just going to stand here and twiddle our thumbs, or are we going to do something here?" Fiora finally asked.

"Hold it, Fiora," Twisted Fate cautioned. "You know it's not safe to try and make any funny moves when you don't see it around yet."

"I know that! It's just a waste of our time to wait for it to come out. Bah! This is not my nature," she decided as she walked onto the platform. "I will make _la premier avance." _

"Laurent, no!" Jax called out as she picked up the etwahl, stowing her saber in its scabbard.

"What's the matter?" she asked with amusement as she began to move down to rejoin the group. "Hmm, I didn't expect this to be so heavy, but we have it now. See, that wasn't so –"

_CRASH!_

The deafening sound coming from the ceiling made Irelia instinctively cover her ears, the tremors rocking the ground making her fall to the ground as she tried to keep her gaze up. In the confusion she had lost track of Fiora and the etwahl. Something had collided on the ground with such force that the dust which had covered the old chamber's floor had been kicked up and filled the air. Trying to force back a cough or two, Irelia squinted through the dusty air, looking for a glimpse of the Dreamweaver.

A few feet away from her, Lux threw her baton into the midst of the dust, the light radiating from it as it returned to her. Sure enough, it revealed the Dreamweaver's figure in a crouched position, rising up from its impact onto the ground. The rest of the group seemed to have recovered from the initial shock, with Kassadin already making the first move and using the power of the Void to immediately blink to the Dreamweaver's position before it could fully stand up. As soon as he reached it, he lashed out with his nether blade, cutting the creature across its face.

Jax wasn't slow to follow, immediately leaping onto the Dreamweaver to begin his assault. Although he only had the lamppost which he used in his matches on the Fields of Justice, he somehow managed to make it an effective weapon outside it as well, with swift blows coming towards the Dreamweaver's body, his speed only increasing as he continued his strikes.

The creature was quick to dispel them, swinging its arm in one powerful arc to connect with both Jax and Kassadin, knocking them back. It seemed to take in all of its opponents at once before deciding to dart at Vayne at frightening speeds. The Night Hunter only barely managed to tumble away before firing a bolt from her crossbow at it, impaling itself into its shoulder. Giving a slight grunt of discomfort, it pulled the intrusion out of its shoulder and then began to turn on Twisted Fate, who was not as nimble as Vayne and fell to the ground at the Dreamweaver's impact.

Irelia quickly dashed to the Dreamweaver and split her blade into four pieces, using each piece to attack it at a different angle. It seemed to work, as the creature could not block each part of her assault without letting Twisted Fate escape from its grasp. He pulled a gold card from his sleeve as he scrambled away, momentarily immobilizing the Dreamweaver before it recovered and lunged at Irelia, aiming a vicious backhand across her face.

The impact of the hit sent her reeling as she backpedaled, trying not to lose her balance. Sensing that she was in trouble, the blades returned to her as she began to move more warily, realizing she could not fight it alone.

Kassadin had already jumped back onto it, unleashing a pulse of energy which struck it in the face. It seemed his attacks were more effective than anyone else's, as the Dreamweaver was slower to respond to him than the rest, but the Dreamweaver still had plenty of strength left as it drove a fist into Kassadin's chest, attempting to absorb his energy. The Void Walker was immobilized for a short while, but was able to blink away.

Jax returned into the fray, circling around to flank it before aiming a swing at its midsection. The creature was able to dodge easily and claw at the grandmaster, but that was what Jax was waiting for, as he began to swing his lamp in a circle around his head as he dodged every strike the Dreamweaver aimed at it. After a couple of seconds the lamp came swiftly atop its head with a satisfying cracking sound. The creature reeled backwards, and Irelia thought they had the upper hand then, but a purple mist encircled it, and the creature proceeded to continue its assault with restored vigor.

Dodging the particles of light that Lux had thrown at it as she did her best to keep it away from Twisted Fate, it disappeared for a second before appearing behind the two and viciously punched the Card Master in the temple before giving him a kick which sent him sprawling across the floor. Lux gave a scream and instantly made distance between herself and the Dreamweaver as she attempted to attend to his injuries.

With Twisted Fate out of the fight, it was really only the four of them left. Vayne was carefully aiming her crossbow's bolts at it, but before she could get a third consecutive strike on it, the Dreamweaver either dodged or turned invisible so the arrow missed the mark. Wondering it had went after yet another disappearance, Vayne span around, backing against the wall to make sure it could not sneak up from behind her as what happened to her fellow champion.

Unfortunately, she had not covered all her bases quickly enough and the Dreamweaver reappeared between her and Irelia and was once again preparing to incapacitate another of the party. But Irelia was quick enough for it, and was able to intercept the blow by dashing between it and Vayne. Weathering the brunt of the blow, she was able to stun the creature with a carefully placed blade into its midsection before falling to her knees, reeling from the impact.

"Irelia!" Jax cried out as he leapt to her, preventing the Dreamweaver from inflicting any more blows onto her. Vayne took the opportunity to tumble around the Dreamweaver, placing it between her and the wall as she drew a huge bolt from her back and sent it into the creature's chest, impaling it against the wall.

"Impure fool," she taunted as she began to unleash bolt after bolt into its exposed body. Kassadin had also closed the distance to resume his attack. The Dreamweaver's body seemed like it couldn't take much more, and perhaps they would be able to defeat it after all.

However, all those ideas went down the drain when things took a turn for the darker – literally. Suddenly Irelia had lost her vision and saw only blackness, with the exception of a few green lights in her periphery. She was afraid, but having faced Nocturne on the Fields before, this technique was nothing new to her. Expecting the Dreamweaver to rush at her at any second, she held her blade in a defensive stance as she waited for it to unleash its attack.

Except it never came. Instead, all she heard was Vayne cry out in pain, with a thump suggesting that she had been knocked unconscious. Irelia desperately twisted around her, hoping that she could find something in this unnatural darkness, but was only greeted by the sound of Kassadin groan in agony as well. The green lights were no longer in her periphery, but were now coming very close to her, forming a circle around her. She attempted to run, but her movement became sluggish, and her body could not match what her mind wished to do, leading her to trip over her own feet and fall to the floor.

The green lights were now surrounding her skin, and Irelia could feel herself become lost to oblivion. Reaching to her father's blade to save her, her thoughts found no purchase as her mind was slowly disintegrating. Now her vision was filled with that eerie, disgusting green color, as with horror, she could do nothing but watch herself decay at the mercy of the Dreamweaver, powerless to stop it.

_Powerless…why?_

She could handle being defeated by a stronger opponent, as long as she went down fighting. But having the life slowly torn out of you, without any chance to struggle for your life, was what Irelia feared most. If seeing her father's passing had told her anything, it was that she was determined to always have her strength. She wasn't going to see herself wilt away like he did, with no explanation, and more importantly, with no satisfactory answer.

And then all of a sudden, the imaginary bonds which had sucked the very spirit from her had vanished. She was still too weak to do anything, but her vision had at least been restored to her, and she could barely behold a hooded figure engage the Dreamweaver in single combat. The creature seemed to be on its last legs, its energy dispelled in that massive effort to incapacitate every single one of them. Yet Jax had managed to escape its clutches and reduce it to fighting him, one on one. And if anything was going to take Jax one on one, there was nothing that could defeat him.

Yet the Dreamweaver put up a formidable effort. Its strikes had learned to break through his Counter Strike, and Jax had to dodge and weave through each of its powerful blows. He had to aim his strikes carefully, as the creature still had all of the agility it boasted from the beginning of the fight, but in the end it could not escape the grandmaster. Eventually one last strike forced the figure to crumple at Jax's feet as he exerted as much as effort as he could to remain standing.

"This… this is defeat," she heard it say. It was a droning voice, an otherworldly tone which seemed more robotic than anything.

"What are you? Why do you do this for the Institute?" Jax demanded.

The Dreamweaver looked at Jax with vacant grey eyes. "This is the beginning," it spoke cryptically as it then dissolved into the ground.

Once everyone had regained consciousness, Jax took it upon himself to relate what had happened when he defeated it.

"So we have no more answers than when we first started out," Kassadin observed grimly.

"I'm afraid that's correct," Jax agreed. "Well, at least, we've recovered the etwahl, so now we can return it to Sona…"

Everyone suddenly realized that they had not seen Fiora since the Dreamweaver's crash landing onto the platform. As they made their way to the remains of the platform, they saw the Grand Duelist's knocked out figure crumpled in a position that looked like she was cradling the etwahl with her body.

"Oh no, poor Fiora!" Lux exclaimed as she made her way to her fellow Demacian. Jax gingerly picked up the etwahl as the Demacian examined the duelist.

"She has a pulse. But I guess she took the biggest shock out of all of us, with the Dreamweaver pretty much landing on top of her," she told them worriedly.

"We'll have to take her to the medical ward," Irelia advised. "She will not be pleased when she wakes up… a woman of her pride being stuck in a patient bed again," she had to laugh.

"That crazy woman," Twisted Fate grumbled. "I'm at least happy we all made it out alive."

"Yes, all of us. Including the Dreamweaver," Vayne pointed out.

"I never thought we would actually kill him," Irelia mused. "Besides, there's still some unfinished business we're going to have to find out when we find him again. There's no doubt that he'll strike again once his injuries heal up or something."

"That's something to worry about later," Jax said. "Let's just get Laurent somewhere safe."

* * *

It was amazing how different an atmosphere could change when passing through one door. After all the action of the previous day, Irelia found herself feeling much more relaxed when she stepped into Karma's room. She was glad a few of those loose ends had finally been resolved. They had returned the etwahl to Sona, who wouldn't stop bombarding her thoughts with exclamations of gratitude. Jax had petitioned for Kassadin and Vayne to remain "on call" in case an incident like that ever popped up again, something which the two agreed to. On the other hand, Twisted Fate decided he didn't want anything to do with the risk which came from fighting beings as powerful as the Dreamweaver. If the Institute had some other entities as powerful as it, then it was only a matter of time before he actually was killed by those encounters instead of just being crippled in his fighting ability, which they believed was the Institute's original goal. At least, that was what he said.

"You're just being a pushover, Fate," Jax had said dryly.

"You can speak easy, you're the goddamn Grandmaster at Arms," Twisted Fate had complained. "Someone like me, fighting's not the way I make a living. I'm just here to give you information and to protect the next targets from the Institute's goons."

"Just like you protected Sona so well?" the grandmaster questioned him.

"That was only cause I was caught off guard," Twisted Fate defended himself. "Besides, I saw it in the cards earlier. Lady Luck wasn't with me then. But now she is."

"You're hopeless, Fate," Jax said as he had walked off.

"So," Karma spoke, prompting Irelia back to the present. "Your mission the other day went smoothly?"

"Smooth would be the last word I would use to describe it," Irelia answered bitterly. "But we got out alive, and we got the etwahl back. Anything else I would consider a bonus, considering how we knew nothing of what that thing could do to us."

"So it was quite powerful, I suppose?"

"It's not on the same power level as us champions," Irelia told her. "I suppose you could compare it to what Fiddlesticks, or Nocturne, or maybe even some of the more volatile creatures of the Void, before they were restrained by the Institute. To think they're now using creatures of the same nature to do their dirty work is just… detestable."

"Hmm," Karma took in her words. "I wonder what other things the Institute could have up their sleeve. It hardly seems like this is their only tool to mess with their champions."

"Yeah, there's definitely some other things they have locked up waiting for us," Irelia agreed. "I wouldn't be surprised if this was just their experiment, and the true monsters are just being locked up waiting to be unleashed."

"It seems we know far too little about the Institute than we deserve," Karma commented.

"Definitely not enough. I was wondering what we would do now after that, but Jax didn't have any ideas. So now we're stuck here waiting for something to happen, and it's not like me to keep waiting," Irelia said.

"You were always the restless one," Karma told her. "You've already shown you can do the correct thing when action is needed. Now you must learn to do the correct thing when there is no action needed."

"That seems counterintuitive," Irelia challenged.

"It simply means you must be ready there with the tide when it comes around again," Karma explained. "Life is just like the flow of the ocean. The ebbs and flows of the world cannot be swayed so easily. Recently you had to react to the ebb. Now you have to adapt to the flow and wait. It is all about our equilibrium, you must remember."

"I know," Irelia said resignedly. "It just seems like a much more pressing situation to just stand by and watch."

"It means you have time for other things. You're always so caught up about your work, both here and in Ionia. I never thought I'd see someone with a harder work ethic than your father. You have to accept that you're done here. Why not take some time to relax?"

"I suppose so," the Will of the Blades conceded dejectedly.

"Good. And now, the tea is ready."

* * *

Taking Karma's words to heart, Irelia found herself in an apparel she rarely dressed herself in – her swimsuit. She sat relaxing in the hot springs, accompanied by Sona, who was sitting on a bench, playing a relaxing tune on her etwahl. The Ionian's spirit blades lay next to the maven as Irelia immersed herself up to her neck in the steaming water.

_I'm surprised you don't take more trips here, Irelia, _the telepathic voice in her head commented.

"I'm surprised, too. I always told myself I had better things to do, but I'm beginning to think this is really worth it."

_I have to thank you again for helping me recover my instrument. Twisted Fate told me all about your adventures, _Sona said in gratitude. _It must have been frightening._

"I have to admit, it was really difficult. If it wasn't for Jax… who knows what would have happened to all of us in there."

_He's very strong, _Sona commented. _I wish I knew how he did it!_

"We all do, don't we? He never tells us anything, even though I've began to hang around him a lot recently. He talks a lot, but says a little, if you know what I mean."

_I do, _Sona agreed. After a short pause, she continued. _Forgive me if this sounds a little childish, but… you seem like you two would go well together._

Irelia turned at Sona, surprised at the comment and tried to hide a slight blush. "What… where did that come from, Sona?"

She giggled. _I'm sorry, but it really does seem like a good fit! You're both top laners, you tend to build the same items, you're great fighters with similar fighting styles, and you make a great team working together, _she pointed out.

"Well, I suppose you're right on that," Irelia replied thoughtfully. "But I really never thought about him like that. Besides, you give me too much credit. He's a legendary fighter. I'm just a workaholic now after the Noxian invasion. Even though we Ionians strive to protect our peace, it means we sometimes get a little complacent. If you look at other champions like Darius, you can tell they were made for war and combat. But our ideals are what make us."

_That's true, _Sona answered. _Do you think Jax is all about fighting, then? From the way you work together, it seems like he has good intentions._

"No, it's not that… it's just, he always steps in and saves the day for me. The other day, he literally did save my life. I wouldn't be surprised if he just sees us as another team he has to carry. I don't know what he wants. Perhaps someone capable of performing at the same level as him."

_Jax will always be another level above everyone else, _Sona told her. _That's just who he is._

"Maybe you're right," Irelia conceded. "But then, what does he see in me? I've always wondered that ever since he invited me to go to the bar with him."

_See, I'm telling you it's a good idea! Has anyone told you're very pretty, Irelia?_

Irelia couldn't hide her blush this time. "Sona!"

The maven blushed a little as well. _No one notices because you're always going on about working or training. You're always in your Captain of the Guard armor. Now you're opening yourself up. I don't mean to sound indecent, but… you could really show off your body if you wanted to._

"Um…"

_I'm sorry, it sounded really weird! I'm just saying there are a lot of people who wish they could be you, Irelia. You don't have to feel like Jax's sidekick or anything. You're an incredible person yourself._

"Oh… well thank you Sona. I'm glad to have you around as a friend."

Irelia was beginning to feel very sentimental, but her heart-to-heart conversation was interrupted by the sound of a couple of yordles making their appearance.

"Come on, it's just over here! Don't be shy!" a rambunctious female voice cried out.

"Why do you do this to me, Lulu…" a twisted voice replied, sounding more bashful than malicious at this point.

"You have to get out sometime! You can't be holed up in your room all day working on your freaky oogie-boogie dark magic spells! The hot springs will be good for you! Look, there are people already here!" the voice piped up as they walked around the corner. Irelia recognized the one with the purple headdress as Lulu and to her surprise, a black figure in a blue hat who was none other than the Tiny Master of Evil himself.

"Well, hello there Lulu, and Veigar!" Irelia greeted them cheerfully. Sona waved as well, her mental connection only allowing her to speak to Irelia.

"Salutations, munchkins!" Lulu greeted them with equal enthusiasm. "I was trying to get Veigar to come here cause it'd be relaxing for him! He really needs it, don't you think?"

_Tell them I say it'd be a great idea! _Sona thought in her head.

"Sona says she agrees with you," Irelia relayed. "The water's great, you should try it!"

"See, Veigar, Irelia and Sona both agree with me! That's three to one, so I win!" She took off her shoes and stuck her feet in the water, enticing her companion to do the same.

"Wowzers, it's hot! But you just gotta hop around in it for a while, and… yep, it's as smack-dandy as can be! Come on, Veigar, it won't bite!" Lulu encouraged him.

"Of all the things in the world to be stuck in," Veigar grumbled as he followed suit and dipped a toe in the water gingerly.

"Ah! Accursed liquid!" Veigar cursed as he drew his foot back immediately. "This hot spring water is nothing but a vat from hell itself! How can you stand it?"

"I told you Veigar, you just have to let it sit! Just like a hot soup, it'll be fine after a while! Just for a few seconds! Just a millisecond! An itty-bitty-tiny-nanosecond!"

_They are certainly entertaining things, _Sona thought amusedly.

"I refuse! I am leaving here at once!" Veigar demanded.

"No, don't go! You can stay, you don't have to go into the water!" Lulu pleaded. "You can show the ladies your fancy new magic thingymabobber!" she suggested.

Veigar seemed to relax at the mention of him being able to show off his dark magic. "Hmm… alright, I guess. Stand back and watch my incredible powers!"

"Um… Lulu, is this really the safest environment to do that in?" Irelia wondered worriedly.

"Of course it is!" she answered, not reassuring her at all. "It's as safe as safe can be! Besides, I was just showing Veigar how he could work as a support like me! We've found something that was super duper cool!"

Veigar had his wand out, pointing at the ground – fortunately, far away from the spring and where Sona was sitting – and muttering a spell to himself. "Witness my power!"

A pentagon with a dark border materialized as Lulu created a small furry creature, which ran towards the perimeter. Immediately it was immobilized for a few seconds. But instead of the pentagon's perimeter disappearing, it began to grow outwards, slowly heading towards the group.

Lulu didn't notice this at first, instead turning to congratulate Veigar. "You did it! See, wasn't that just the coolest thing ever?" she asked Irelia and Sona, who were quickly backing away from the perimeter.

"Um… Lulu, I don't think that's supposed to happen," Irelia warned, pointing at the rapidly increasing pool of blackness that was rushing towards them.

"What? What is going on?" Veigar stammered, vastly confused.

As it reached the edge of the hot springs, the blackness began to materialize into a form. It wasn't the Dreamweaver this time, but its form reminded Irelia of it. The difference here was that creature had developed wings and had a very sharp horn atop its head. Its facial features looked less human and more demonic as it took shape and began to walk to the four of them. Immediately Irelia summoned her spirit blades and Sona hid behind her etwahl.

Lulu raised her staff in defense. "Aah! Veigar, make it go away!"

"I didn't make it! I don't know what happ-"

A giant roar came from the figure as it took flight, diving towards the four of them. They tried to jump away from the impact, but the creature picked Veigar up in its hands, scooping him away. Lulu attempted to cast a spell at It, but its wings blew forth a shockwave which knocked them back against the rocky wall.

"What? H-Help me!" Veigar cried out as it began to fly up away into the distance.

"Veigar! Nooo!" Lulu cried out.

After the initial fear bypassed her, Irelia could do nothing but sit there and look at her blades, knowing that neither she nor her weapons could do anything to chase something with the power of flight. She sat there speechless, unable to do nothing but watch the creature get smaller and smaller as it faded away into the horizon.

And there she was again, powerless.

* * *

**A/N: **Well damn. I didn't have motivation to write the story or whatever, but I wanted to get this done before I started studying for finals so here you go. Originally I wanted another 3k or so chapter but I realized I wanted to continue the story so another 2.5 words just came out of nowhere.

I don't know if I want to ship anything but I figured that bit between Sona and Irelia would be amusing. I am trying to make it more focused on the interactions between Jax and Irelia, so here's to that.

Spring break is next week so maybe I can get to more consistent work on this. Cheers!


	9. The Dance Floor Dealings

He had chalked up Fate's refusal to join any more dangerous endeavours with him as a failure to find a suitable companion who could keep up with his inquiry into the secrets of the Institute. Jax sighed to himself as he crossed out yet another name on the list.

So far he had terrible results with the mages and the marksmen. Graves hadn't been scared of getting his feet a little wet, but his real problem was work ethic. Many a time Jax had showed up with some new issue to investigate but Graves seemed to be content with drinking the last of his vodka and not paying enough attention.

_I'll have to get back at Malcolm for that, _Jax made a mental note.

Perhaps he would have better luck – ha, considering his last partner, that was a good joke – with another type of champion. He looked to the assassins of mid lane, and his gaze stopped at the name of Zed. He considered the merits of a man without allegiance. It would certainly be more convenient to enlist in his assistance than with the assassin in service towards the house of du Couteau. While Jax didn't doubt that Talon's skills in these matters were probably superior to Zed's, he also realized that the Blade's Shadow would probably have a stake in the matters and he would only report to Noxus.

After all, Zed already had some motivation to join Jax in his quest. Those creatures had done something to his girl, anyways, Jax reasoned, recalling the attack on Syndra which started the whole thing.

_That's good enough for me, _Jax decided, as he checked the calendar to find out where Zed would be on this particular day. It was a Wednesday, so the Master of Shadows was likely in the eastern training room at this hour. When Jax had learned of this information the first time, he had nodded in approval. Wednesday was a good day for leg day, placed right into the middle of the week so it wasn't something that could be avoided. Never skip leg day.

Jax wouldn't consider having tabs on all the champions as stalking. It was necessary info. Just think of the usefulness of knowing that you wouldn't be appraised during your Wednesday afternoon by an Ionian ninja versed in the arts of the shadows because he would be dedicating that time to improving his own body rather than possibly mangling yours. Not that Jax would ever worry about someone catching him out of all people off guard, but it was always good to prepare. Safety first.

He supposed he should get going. When Zed was finished with his work, he would leave quickly and very punctually. Jax had to give him credit for that – after all, it wouldn't do for someone entitled the Master of Shadows to be careless and dawdle around one place longer than he had to.

So he had entered the doors to the training room, and as expected, the black-clad ninja was there, having just completed an activity on one of the machines there. To see a dangerous assassin casually clad in gym attire – although still black as his usual outfits, of course – made it at least ten times easier to walk up to them knowing he probably didn't have harmful thoughts in his mind at that time.

"Grandmaster," Zed regarded him. His greeting had nothing less than complete formality, and Jax admired his immaculate concern for professionalism. It was matched only by Shen, which was far from a surprise, considering they both had grown up under the same ninja institution.

"Zed," Jax returned his greeting with equal simplicity. They remained staring, sizing one another up. There was no malice between the two, especially considering their cooperative involvement in Syndra's protection, but it was always better not to act too relaxed around Zed.

"I was wondering if you'd be interested in joining me in continuing my investigation into the Institute," Jax offered.

"You mean the very one involving this Dreamweaver character that took Syndra out the other day," Zed replied. It was not a question.

"The very one," Jax answered. "You'll be satisfied to know that we took care of it… well, at least temporarily. But we defeated it when it took the etwahl away from the Maven of the Strings, so we know it's not unbeatable."

"I see. I presume you wish to find a way to permanently eliminate such a monstrosity," Zed guessed.

"It's more than that," Jax added. "We're pretty sure there are more of these things running around under the Institute's control, and although our little group could take down one, that's hardly the strongest one of them."

"And you need other capable champions to assist you," Zed continued, reading perfectly into what Jax needed.

"You could say that," he said, not wanting to play directly into Zed's hand. "So how's Syndra?"

Zed hesitated for a second, probably unwilling to discuss the condition of another champion so freely with another. But he knew Jax was someone with an honorable reputation, someone he could treat with a modicum of respect. "She seems to have recovered from the assault. Nothing seems amiss in her abilities, although she has complained that the size of her dark spheres has decreased. I myself have not noticed such a discrepancy that she has claimed, but although I have sharp eyes, she is the master of her own power, I suppose."

"That's good, then," Jax noted. "So, you in or not?" he asked, making sure to keep the conversation under his control.

"I will accept your offer for now, Grandmaster. My only concern is the other champions with whom you work. I personally hold no qualms with working others, but others may not be so willing to be around a company such as mine," Zed answered.

"I never thought you to be so self-conscious, Zed," Jax quipped. "I'm sure the champions working with us have bigger issues to deal with, however. And what about our lovely lady sovereign? Would she be interested in accompanying you?"

"That is something you would have to ask her," the ninja told him. "I am sure she is well enough to participate in such an investigation, but if she would want to is an entirely different matter. She is… not as stable on matters as I am, especially considering the effect of recent events on her person."

"Understandable," Jax said. "So if you're on board with me at least, you should take a look at these." He threw an envelope at the ninja, who easily caught it with one hand. "They're more statistics, this time from a different region. The Institute still wants global control, so looking into different places will likely give us information on different targets. You'll notice that there are some names on there that overlap, but there will be subtle differences," he explained.

Zed sifted through the documents, making mental notes of each win rate of the champions listed on there. "In Piltover, there is a surprisingly large win rate among those who summon the Storm's Fury. It seems fitting, considering her affiliation with that city-state."

Jax arched an eyebrow, not that Zed could notice his skepticism. "Janna, eh? It looks like they always go for the pretty faces as their next targets. I knew they were up to no good, but these are just cheap shots now."

Zed chose not to indulge him on his humor. "Her wind magic makes it quite difficult to eliminate priority targets in teamfights. Surely you can sympathize with these difficulties."

"Oh, of course. It just seems like a coincidence… Sona, Syndra, Janna? I suppose I should tell our favorite fox to start watching her tails."

"You would rank the Dark Sovereign up there with those other women? The other three you have mentioned are clear symbols of female objectification for the masses of society," Zed queried.

"There are people out there who are interested in being dominated, I suppose," Jax shrugged. "What's the matter, Zed? Don't you think the Dark Sovereign is attractive?" Jax had to congratulate himself there on how seamlessly the loaded question came into their conversation. He wondered how the slippery ninja could work around an obstacle like that.

For once in his life, Jax thought he saw Zed stumped. "She is not an object," he simply stated, though Jax was fairly confident he could count that as a win in his book. "So, where is the wind mage now?" he asked, hoping to change the subject as quickly as possible.

"That's a good question," Jax said thoughtfully. "I presume she's back in Piltover, actually. A lot of the champions moved back to the original city-states after the explosion in fear of things happening here at the Institute, and I don't think any of my connections has seen her around these past few days, myself included."

"Very well," Zed said. "I will go meet with Syndra, and I will contact you when I know whether she wishes to accompany us to Piltover or not."

"It's a plan."

"I must inquire as to where the Will of the Blades is. She seems to be your assistant in all these efforts," Zed observed.

"Irelia's out taking some time off," he told him. "I let the girl know she could afford not spending every hour on the case with me. Most of the group went on their separate ways after the fight against the Dreamweaver, anyways. Fate seemed to want out almost completely, the Crownguard girl had state matters to attend to, and Kassadin and Vayne always seem to have their own machinations."

"And you think I don't?" the ninja challenged.

"Of course you do, but this is personal to you, so you'd gladly have a hand in these matters," Jax answered.

"I suppose you are correct on that," Zed conceded as he moved past Jax. "I will contact you shortly."

* * *

If any of the customs officials thought a journey made by one of the most prolific warriors of the Institute of War and an Ionian assassin with mastery of the forbidden techniques of the shadow was suspicious, well, then Jax wouldn't blame them. He was just thankful that Syndra wasn't able to come, as not only would a third person accompanying them make things more complicated, but a person like her, which could only be viewed by the common folk as Public Enemy #1, would probably not be the best for a cross-country trip.

It was convenient that no one who granted them passage out of the Institute questioned their motives for heading to Piltover, a region which seemed to hold little importance to them, but Jax supposed no one really wanted to get into either of their businesses. And that was perfectly fine with him.

He readjusted his grip on a duffel bag which packed a day's worth of his belongings as he stood up, preparing to disembark as the train finally slowed down in its lengthy travel from Noxus to Piltover. Because of the orientation of the Ironspike Mountains, those who wished to reach the technological city-state from the Institute would have to detour through Noxus first, an idea which didn't sit well with many. Those who could hold out for a longer, but more relaxing journey would usually head for Piltover by sea, using a route from Demacia, around the northwestern corner of Valoran, passing the Frejlord before arriving at Piltover. But Jax and Zed both agreed that time was of the essence, with neither really caring much about the Noxian culture which repelled the majority of the Valoran population.

Jax was curious to see Zed not take along any personal effects. He knew ninjas had their ways, but he still thought it would've been necessary to take along _something _for what could be an extended journey. And Zed's answer to his query didn't seem to help his wondering.

"All things are possible in the order of the shadows." Sensing Jax's dissatisfaction with such an ambiguous answer, Zed thought about elaborating for a second before reasoning there was no harm in doing so. "The order's influence runs deep, and I will always have connections in the darkest corners of every city. Rest assured that I will always have friends on the inside."

Jax nodded, admiring the ninja's thoroughness. "So, we're here. The itinerary took quite a while, so I don't think we'll be getting a meeting with Janna at this hour of the night. Now unless you have a friend from your order hook us up with some place to stay the night, I'm going to get us a hotel room."

"That is acceptable. If you are capable of making the appointment yourself, I will go meet with one of my associates. All I require is the address of our temporary residence," Zed told him.

Fortunately, Jax had a hotel in mind, and told him the street on which it was located. "You know, Zed, if you get back soon enough, we'll have enough time to hit up a bar before we get to the real work tomorrow."

Zed looked like he raised an eyebrow under that mask. Jax couldn't be sure. "Are you attempting to waste my time with such frivolous activities?"

"Are you saying you're a lightweight, Zed?" he taunted.

The Master of Shadows looked directly at him, not one to take insults without retribution. "The merest shade of me is enough to out-drink you!" he promised.

"So I'll take that as a yes. To my offer, of course. Whether you are indeed a lightweight remains to be seen, I suppose," Jax concluded. "You'll know where to find me after I check in, so just let me know when you're ready to hit the town, then."

"Do not confuse this for interest, grandmaster," Zed snarled. "I am merely showing you the error of your ways." And with that he had disappeared down the street. Jax didn't bother to watch him after he turned the first corner.

With an amused thought set in his head of Zed hunching over a bar counter and demanding another drink, Jax went about on his own way to procure a hotel room for himself and the ninja. He was a little familiar with the lay of the land, having been in the City of Progress a few times. The hotel he sought was one he had stayed in one time previously, and he had good memories of such a time, noting the above-average quality of the services which the staff provided.

He found his destination, an incredible monument towering over twenty stories high, with lights occupying many of the rows of rooms which showed the hotel's popularity amongst tourists. Jax strode in without ceremony, hoping not to attract that much attention. Though he didn't mind an admirer from time to time, this was not one of those times where he could sit around to make idle chatter. When you make a drinking appointment with a bro, as strange as they may be, you don't want to be unprepared for it. Considering that Zed could probably deal with his errands in short time, Jax wanted to be equally prompt with booking a room and getting his belongings out of the way.

The receptionist at the desk, a middle-aged man whose hair began to show signs of graying, seemed to be honored at being able to make temporary living arrangements for a champion of the League, but thankfully was able to maintain professionalism. But when Jax mentioned a second person with him, he gave him a quizzical look.

"Pardon me, grandmaster, but you seem to be alone. Do you have a lovely lady coming around later? It won't be a problem, as I can grant any other inhabitant of your room access when we are finished documenting your information," the receptionist told him.

"No, nothing of the sort," Jax answered, giving an empty sort of laugh. "Another champion is just accompanying me as we spend a few days in Piltover. But do make sure you give Zed a room key for himself. I'm sure not even his shadows could bypass your security."

The receptionist became uneasy, sweat beginning to form on his forehead. "D-Did you say Zed, sir? The Master of Shadows? Well, this is… quite unexpected, to say the least, but I will be happy to give Master Zed the service he needs as well. I hope you enjoy your stay in the City of Progress." And with that the man disappeared quickly behind the counter after hastily handing him a room card.

Whistling to himself, Jax made for his room located on the ninth floor. Choosing not to survey the room furnishings for now, he dropped his duffel bag in a corner and immediately walked back out. The elevator opened revealing none other than the Master of Shadows himself.

"You're quick," Jax said, not surprised in the least, though impressed on the ninja's punctuality. "I suppose everything went well on your end?"

"Of course," the Master of Shadows answered promptly. "I hope the room is to our liking?"

"I didn't see anything wrong," Jax answered plainly. "I just threw my stuff in there and came right to the elevator. You probably wouldn't care any more than me about it. The comfort of the room is the least of our concerns here."

"Well, then there is no reason for us to be here any longer," Zed stated, hitting the ground floor button on the elevator panel.

"You'd be correct," Jax agreed as the doors closed and the two began their descent back.

The Piltover nightlife wasn't the best around Valoran, Jax would say. He'd had much wilder nights in Zaun and Noxus. Bilgewater would always have the most entertaining pubs, and he'd even had some interesting stories to tell from a time or another in Demacia. But for a city with a reputation of staying current with the times, the subsequent excitement of its night life wasn't much to write home about. Nevertheless, as long as there were adequate amounts of women and booze, Jax would be satisfied. And he wondered how his partner tonight would take it.

The grandmaster was leading the way, with the Master of Shadows following close behind and slightly off to the side. Jax had thought that Zed would look a bit out of his element walking so far in plain sight, but the ninja managed to maintain a normal walking style which didn't look like him sneaking up on an unsuspecting victim. With all the grace expected of one formerly trained under the most expert of Ionian masters, his footsteps upon the pavement made so little noise that he may as well have been treading on air.

At last they came upon the destination in question. "After you," Jax offered, stepping aside to let Zed pass him and enter the bar first. The festivities were in full force, with disco lights flashing against the walls of the establishment, providing deep colors of red and blue against the darkness of the room. The way it had been set up made it easy for one to hide their faces in the shadows if need be, providing a mysterious atmosphere which inevitably led to strangers meeting one another under the effects of whatever they chose to ingest that night and rolling the dice to see what would happen from there. Jax knew that life well, having experienced several nights where he surrendered the wheel to the fickle whims of fate and rum. Some nights were delightful. Others were not so pleasant. But he never regretted a single one.

"Make yourself at home," he quipped to the assassin before he headed immediately for the bartender to indulge himself in a drink or two to start off the night. Zed followed him to the counter, a hand on Jax's shoulder turning him around.

"You seem to have forgotten our arrangement, grandmaster," he reminded him, gesturing to a few glasses which lay on the table.

"Oh, of course," Jax remarked, smiling under the hood of his. "How silly of me to forget." He called up the bartender, demanding two glasses of firewhiskey. "When it comes to paying for these things…" the grandmaster started.

"The victor is exempt," Zed suggested.

"Naturally," Jax agreed as the glasses arrived and each man immediately drained their contents. The liquid gave off a slight burning sensation which made his throat cry out in discomfort, but he knew it was the natural reaction of the body towards firewhiskey taken for the first time in a night. He'd drank scores of the alcohol before, quite confident in his tolerance towards it. Looking over at Zed, the ninja didn't look fazed at all.

"Good warm up to start things off, eh?" Jax said as he asked for more. The two emptied the glasses without incident once more, and two further glasses per man soon followed. By this time he was beginning to feel the effects of the drink, but it wasn't anything he couldn't handle.

"Now," Jax attempted to string his words together, "we're… ah, getting somewhere. Don't you think?"

"This is… hardly a challenge," Zed managed, his voice not at all sounding as sinister as it usually was.

They continued to trade inebriation for inebriation, with neither of them giving up as they realized they could take quite a bit of punishment. By a dozen shots Jax was definitely feeling a lot more than light-headed, although he was nowhere near his limit. The Master of Shadows, on the other hand, seemed to be having a little more trouble holding it down, clutching his head in between forced sips of the whiskey.

"Not looking so tough after all, are you, Zed?" Jax teased, a hiccup escaping him.

Refusing to look at his opponent, Zed continued to stare into the counter, trying his best to focus. "Sobriety is w-weakness…" His hand which was supporting his head gave out and he dropped hard onto the counter.

"So I guess I'll take this as a win," Jax guessed, getting out of his seat and stretching his legs in an effort to start getting the alcohol out of his system.

"The shadows… why have you betrayed me…" Zed muttered as he continued to lie on the counter. The ninja didn't seem too badly off, Jax decided as he examined his figure. He hadn't passed out, but he wasn't in any condition to move for a while. "I guess you'll stay here while the bartender comes around to ask for money. I'm off to enjoy myself properly," he informed his intoxicated companion as he strode over to some other tables, hoping to mingle with the natives.

Among the populace, Jax was a well-liked Champion, his unique yet effective fighting style and his charming and charismatic (if he was a good judge of self-character) personality winning over fans from all slices of life. He'd never failed to make a friend or two at a bar, even though they'd never turn into something more than acquaintances for the night. In some occasions, if that friend happened to be female, well, he might get to know them for a few more hours.

Tonight, however, Jax knew he had to be somewhat accountable considering the duties he had lined up for the following day, so he made sure to keep his bravado in check. "How's it going over here, fellows?" he directed towards a random table.

"Yo, it's Jax!" a man exclaimed in recognition.

"The Grandmaster at Arms himself!"

"What brings you to Piltover, friend?"

A round of introductions was made as each person at the table wanted to get the chance to talk to a League champion, if only for a few seconds. He laughed and smiled at all of them, the alcohol probably making him much too friendly, cracking jokes and telling stories of crazy battles on the Fields.

"And then I found myself trapped in that damn Demacian prince's crater," he was telling the group. "Normally I'd be okay with fighting in an arena. I could probably take the bloke on with one hand. But out of the corner of my eye, I saw that metal ball from Orianna come flying right into the middle of where we were fighting, and I realized things didn't look so good."

"Ah, that Shockwave combo got you, didn't it?" someone guessed.

"Come on, he's Jax!" a female voice said in defiance. "He probably just jumped out of it."

"Friends, friends, as much as I would like to say that I devised a ingenious plan to get myself out of the situation, I have to admit. I was pretty fucked," Jax told them.

A round of laughter filled the table as they visualized the misfortune which would have happened to him.

"Except I managed to take a lantern out at the last second," Jax concluded with a glint in his… never mind. Sounds of disappointment echoed around the table, with a few "Aw, man"s thrown about. "Kudos to Thresh, man. The dude's a bro. You have to give him credit where credit is due, even though he is a sadistic reaper who would probably harvest our souls when we die."

"Sounds like he's a good support," another female voice commented, this one unusually quiet for the atmosphere they were in. Taking a closer look, Jax realized he hadn't gotten the name of that woman, whom he thought strange for wearing a hooded jacket. It was quite odd considering they were inside, as well as the fact that most of the women in the bar were wearing clothing designed to attract attention rather than repel it. Jax realized he wasn't in any position to criticize, considering the fact that he almost always wore a hood over his face wherever he went.

"Hey, who do you think the best support is in the League?" another person asked, piggybacking off the previous statement.

"It's Blitzcrank, isn't it?" someone butted in.

"It's totally Morgana, dude," another voice argued.

"Vel'Koz all the way!" a third voice chimed in. Before he knew it a whole new argument had erupted

Raising his voice, he tried to settle the conversation back down a little. "I'm not going to call out favorites or anything," Jax replied carefully, making sure to drop a disclaimer in his statements. "But Thresh is definitely up there, along with Janna. And the Radiant Dawn," he added. "Now there is a woman you don't want to mess with." A couple of people gave nods of assent, while the woman in the hood looked at him curiously, taking in his commentary without any reaction. He tried to look back at her, but the low hood was covering her eyes and he couldn't make out any more details as to her appearance.

"Hey, what's all this about?" an obnoxiously loud man yelled as he made his way towards the table, which hosted a considerable amount of people when the bar's patrons found out there was a League champion in their midst. "Oy, if it isn't Six-Eyes!" Jax cocked his head slightly, confused. Now there was a name he had never been called. "You think you're so tough and all, with your fancy lamp post techniques and your stupid record. I always wondered why you kept that hood on all the time. What you hiding under there? Probably some ugly tumor, I'd bet."

Oh man. This guy was either incredibly drunk or unfathomably stupid. Perhaps a combination of the two, Jax mused.

"Can't you just leave him alone?" the woman in the hood shot back. "You should probably treat a League champion with a bit more respect than that." Jax frowned. She didn't have to step in like that. You never wanted to say more to an angry drunk than you had to. Nope, this was not turning out well. This was going south quickly and Jax didn't want to be on that train.

The man decided to turn on her. "And what's up with you, girl, trying to stick up for that creep? You wanting his dick? Oh wow, he's a League champion! Maybe if I suck up to him I can get in his pants!" he mocked, suddenly grabbing her by the shoulders and pretty much lifting her out of her seat. If he had nothing else, Jax thought, he was at least pretty strong.

"Aah!" the woman screamed. "Put me down!"

Some of the guys at the table tried to come to her aid. "Hey man, just chill out! You've drank too much," someone said as a few guys began to turn on the drunk, who Jax now observed to be a good head taller than any person at the table, Jax himself included.

"Get away from me, you punks!" the drunk bellowed. He roughly shoved a man into the table with one of his hands, provoking some more violent reactions as people began to throw punches at him. Dodging to the side, he kicked a few guys into each other as the scene began to devolve into an all-out brawl. And the drunk wasn't alone, it seemed. Behind him were several of what looked to be henchmen coming to defend him from the people at Jax's table. The grandmaster stood up, knowing he had to come to the woman's aid. He took up his lamppost, but the copious amount of drinks he had ingested earlier made his combat ability quite comical, so his attempted strikes at the tall drunkard went wide as the man only laughed at him.

"Pathetic! Who even let you in the League of Losers anyways?" he joked, now grabbing a shot glass from the table and throwing it at Jax, who only barely maintained enough senses to dodge the sharp projectile.

Jax didn't seem to be able to fight the man in his inebriated state, only sidestepping the man's punches, which were clumsy as well, but still very dangerous. But just like his Counter Strike, his dodging didn't last forever, and he made the silly mistake of tripping over an overturned chair leg and fell onto the floor. Sluggish in forcing himself to stand up, the giant figure loomed over him and prepared a giant boot to make contact with his face. "Now I've got you, you damn runt!"

Closing his eyes, Jax tried to roll away, even though he knew such efforts would probably be futile anyway. He steeled himself for impact.

Except it never came. A familiar laugh made itself known above all the ruckus as a couple of shadow figures appeared between Jax and the man. With a few swift and precise strikes, as well as a shuriken finding its way into the man's jugular, the threat was neutralized with a sickening crunch sound and the giant figure collapsed a few inches away from Jax.

"None escape their shadow," Zed snarled as he offered a hand to Jax.

The grandmaster took it gratefully, finally rising to his feet. "I thought you were down for the count tonight," he said, marveled at the ninja's ability to recover from drinking a large amount of whiskey and still being able to perform the Death Mark on people.

"It is a fool's mistake to underestimate me," Zed warned, gesturing to the dead body lying on the ground in front of them.

"Right... Well, what you did there wasn't exactly legal, as much as I enjoyed it. We should probably get out of here," Jax suggested, gesturing at the still violent bar fight taking place. He hoped no one would notice them quietly slip out, but he realized there was going to be one witness. He flinched, noticing the woman in the hood getting up from the ground, having fallen when the drunkard fell to Zed's shadows.

"You didn't see anything here, lady," Jax tried to say in order to cover up their tracks. "We'll be on our way."

"I think you're mistaken," she replied. Her voice seemed… different somehow. A lot more airy? She turned to the two men and finally lifted up her hood, revealing her true identity.

"The Storm's Fury," Zed realized, before making his voice urgent. "This is not the time for pleasantries, I presume."

"Not at all," Janna agreed. "We do have to leave right now, but not for the reasons you're thinking of." She was already moving away from the bar tables, indicating for them to come along.

"I'll hear the explanation later," Jax decided. "Lead the way!" he said, as the wind mage began to make a beeline for the exit at the back of the bar, the two men following close behind.

* * *

**A/N: **when did all these words come out? Anyways, spring break for me, which means it's a good time to write more. I was only planning on hitting a bit more than 30k words but suddenly this chapter went up to 5k and a half. Sorry if the recent chapters are too long compared to the usual length.

So, Zed and Jax seem like interesting drinking buddies. And I've split up the story so we have Irelia and Jax chapters alternating to cover a lot more scenes, rather than the story being narrated solely from Irelia's point of view. It does get in the way of the Irelia/Jax interactions I wanted to explore, but this ended up being very effective as well.

As for the next chapter, I'm intending for it to have something to relate with Mount Targon... that's your teaser.


	10. The Desert Travels

She had never felt what it was like to truly be alone.

Although she couldn't say with confidence that she had even one surviving family member on this earth, although she had to witness her father and mentor succumb to a mysterious disease, although she had pledged to wait for her brother to return from an overseas voyage to seek foreign aid during the Noxian invasion, and although she still waited for him after all these years, she had never actually been alone.

A divine presence seemed to always be looking out for her - the Starchild had ensured that when she had saved Irelia's life by anchoring her very being to her father's fabled weapon. The animated blades were now her sole protector, showing almost lifelike concern in their movements as they swirled around Irelia everywhere she went, amidst the battlefield, amidst the political meetings of the Ionian council, even in her solitary escapades on starry nights where she would gaze upon the horizon, shrouded in moonlight, and recall the days long gone, when she and Zelos were children again and their biggest concern in life was being able to pass their father's next test.

Because of that, she would never understand the severe consequences of a yordle's time in isolation. Irelia had heard of Veigar's past, an unjust prison sentence served in a dark cell in Noxus, with no company other than the blackness of the room and the cold walls which boxed him in. Exposure to extended amounts of time without companionship eventually led to him becoming what he was now - an unstable ball of insanity lodged within a vessel much too small to contain it. She feared to think what should happen when the final straw would break. His induction into the League, coupled with an interest in him taken by the Fae Sorceress, seemed to have halted the rise of insanity in Veigar's mind, but without constant attention, it was liable to soon spill out.

Lulu herself wasn't much of a better case. No one really looked at her at the same level as Veigar, but from a couple of conversations with the Chronokeeper, Irelia learned that Lulu had a few misadventures with the passage of time when she lost herself in some strange metaphysics-defying field known as the Glade. Zilean had educated Irelia on the dangers of messing with time - your mind could only catch up to your body in the span of time traveled if the passage of time was strictly linear. Any deviation from the constant speed of time through the universe could pose some nasty complications regarding one's mental health. Coupled with the fact that Lulu had undergone her time-traveling experience by herself, it meant that her isolation, although a much more cheerful period, also led to a strangely-developed brain. If her quaint utterances and bizarre incantations on the Fields of Justice meant anything, it was that she too should never be subjected to further withdrawal from companionship.

It was a lot to think about during the walk from the Institute's hot springs to the residences of the unaffiliated champions of the League, the area where both Jax and Twisted Fate were located. Seeing the grandmaster's absence from his quarters, which was far from unusual to Irelia given her acquaintance with him, she strode over to Twisted Fate's room to see if he had a clue to Jax's whereabouts.

"He was already working on the next case," Twisted Fate informed her. "Guy's got no break to his work, I swear. He didn't want me to come along cause he thought I was too afraid to deal with whatever we might find out there. As if!"

"Except," Irelia reminded him, "that was what you said."

"Hey, I'm being practical, not cowardly," Twisted Fate protested. "Anyways, all he told me was that he took Zed along for the ride and they were getting on the next train to Piltover. I'd reckon they're already halfway there."

"Great," Irelia sighed, thanking the gypsy for his time before bidding him farewell. She looked towards Sona and Lulu, who had accompanied her all the way from the hot springs. It was imperative that they locate Veigar at once, but without Jax's help in the matter, she was the only one from the previous group who was around to deal with the strange creatures the Institute had unleashed.

"It looks like it'll just be the three of us," she told them resignedly. "You know, you don't have to come along if you don't want to, Sona. I'd understand why, being already targeted by those things before."

_It's not a problem_, the maven communicated to her. _It's only right to help a friend, and besides... I want to save Veigar._

"Yeah, I guess you're right," the Ionian agreed. "Lulu, I'm sure you're coming with us, but since Sona and I have no idea what to do, I was hoping you might know where to start with this."

"Don't you worry your itty-bitty brains," Lulu chirped up, the loss of her best friend not seeming to dampen her ubiquitously lively spirit. "I'll always be able to sense his presence!"

"You can?" Irelia asked incredulously.

"Yuppers!" Lulu answered positively. "I can't tell exactly where he is, like here at the Institute where there's a lot of people, but generally I can tell where he is because we can both recognize each other's magic!" She concentrated for a while, reaching out with her mind in an attempt to locate her yordle counterpart's signal, like a metal detector searching for objects buried under the sand at the beach.

"Oh, wow," Lulu said in amazement.

"What is it?" Irelia asked.

"He's… pretty far away from us. Really high up. If I didn't know better I'd say he was halfway to the moon!" Lulu cleared her throat, taking a more serious tone. "I sensed him… on Mount Targon."

_Mount Targon_, Sona repeated in Irelia's mind. _The home of the Rakkor, and the Solari. Do you think they're involved in this somehow?_

"Doubtful," Irelia shook her head. "The mountain is massive, and there's a lot of unsettled territory out there where neither of the two peoples live. If anything, I'd be grateful if they could help us."

"Hmm?" Lulu asked, thrown out of the mental loop. "What's going on?"

Irelia relayed Sona's thoughts on the matter. "Sona's wondering where the Rakkor and the Solari stand in all of this. I don't think they'd be a problem."

The sorceress tapped her chin thoughtfully with her staff. "Intriguing… Yes, very intriguing! But Miss Leona seems nice enough, so I'm sure the sun people will help us! I don't know about the fighty-speary guys though. They seem mean," she frowned.

_From my experience, Pantheon seems polite enough_, Sona offered. _He is just ruthless on the battlefield, but that's his nature._

Irelia nodded in agreement. The formidable Rakkor warrior was a terror to behold on the battlefield, his skills solely prepared for the profession he held as an art. With the sacred weapons of the Rakkor in his hands, despite his primitive - as mages like Viktor would call it - fighting style by spear and shield, he was a tenacious fighter to match up against. Few were the times she could recall besting him, her style of fighting more suited to adapting to an opponent's style and playing against their strengths. Pantheon was more likely to simply break them down, and not many champions in the League could stand up to him.

"Sona tells me Pantheon isn't a bad man deep down," Irelia relayed. "He just has a passion for war."

Lulu frowned. "That's so cruel though! Didn't anyone ever tell him make love, not war?"

Irelia had to chuckle a little. "Apparently that saying never made it to the Rakkor."

_We should prepare to leave at once, shouldn't we?_ Sona interrupted.

"Yeah, you're right," Irelia conceded. "Time is of the essence after all. You'll have until sundown to prepare your things, as that's when the last train southbound leaves the Institute," she instructed the two.

"Oh man, it's like a vacation!" Lulu exclaimed. "How long are we going to be out?"

Irelia mulled the thought over in her head, unsure about the duration of the journey herself. "I don't expect we'll need more than two days' worth of provisions. We'll be able to leave our stuff at Palatin. It's an Institute-controlled village at the foot of Mount Targon. There we should be able to get any extra food or clothes we need, but I'm sure we all prefer our own clothing."

Sona nodded, showing her agreement to the proposal. Lulu also announced her assent. "Sounds like a plan, raspberry! Well, I'll be going now! I'll see you at the train station! Come along, Pix!" she waved goodbye as she left the two, seemingly zipping away at a speed Irelia wouldn't have thought was possible for a person her size - well, apart from Teemo.

She turned to the blue-haired musician, who maintained a serene look the whole time, despite the troubling events of recent. "I guess I'll be off as well," Irelia told her. "I never thought this affair would come so far."

_The most serious conflicts are the ones people underestimate_, Sona answered her ominously. _I am confident in our abilities, however. They didn't call us Champions for nothing._

"In that case, may the gods grant us victory."

* * *

Valoran's sunsets were incredible, Irelia decided, but she still harbored a preference for its sunrises. Growing up as a little girl in Ionia, she would often observe the sun rise above the Guardian's Sea as it embarked on its journey across the sky, the contrast of the cerulean waters and the reddish-orange glow of the sun creating a striking palette much more vivid than any painter's canvas could muster. In Ionia, the rising sun was a symbol of blessing, a reminder that the balance of nature would continue to be maintained as the sun would never fail to rise to mark the beginning of a new day.

Now, as she looked through the windows of the train heading for Mount Targon, she watched the very same sun descend beneath the desert sands of the Great Barrier in the distance. The orange tint of the landscape was even more prominent, with the glare of the sand accentuated by the color of the sun, producing a shining light too radiant to behold. Irelia wondered how the Solari ever managed to be around Leona if she ever shone as brightly as the display she attempted to gaze upon.

The Maven of the Strings sat across from her, strumming a soft, melodic tune on the etwahl ever present at her side. She seemed just as lost in thought, a contemplative tint glowing in her eyes as she accompanied Irelia in watching the sunset.

_Beautiful, isn't it?_

"It is. It still amazes me how bright the sun can become, even so close to nightfall," Irelia commented.

_It is quite the symphony of colors_, Sona agreed, _a sight I would give up anything for_. Her gaze turned to her instrument, caressing its strings. _Well… almost anything._

"We're more alike than I thought," Irelia noted. "The bond between you and your etwahl is just as inseparable as between myself and my blade."

_Indeed. Just as your blades move as an extension of your mind, my instrument is the gate which bridges my thoughts with the outside world's through music._

"I can't imagine how I would feel had they been separated from me," the Ionian said.

_It was… unpleasant, to say the least. Those few hours felt as if a heavy anchor was weighing down my soul. Yet I knew that your efforts to restore it to me would be successful. I never saw a time when an effort led by Jax would fail_, Sona related.

"Everyone speaks so highly of him," Irelia observed wistfully. "In my entire stay at the Institute, I would never hear anyone say a single thing bad of him. No one sensible would, in any case," she corrected, feeling it was best to exclude Draven's jealous accusations from her case study. "But he's always so aloof. How does he have that sort of impact among all the champions here?'

_I can't speak for everyone_, Sona attempted to answer, _but I'll always remember one particular time. I was booked for a concert in Bilgewater, which was a new experience for me as I'd never traveled past the mainland to perform before. It was a rough passage at sea, and the passengers were getting… rowdy. A couple of sailors tried to take advantage of me, and since I was constrained by keeping my etwahl safe, I couldn't possibly try to evade them. Sona looked away, slightly discomforted from having to relive the experience, but pressed on._

_Anyways, that was when I noticed that Jax was on the ship too. He was even carrying around that signature lamppost of his. I would've found that silly if I wasn't fearing for my life at the time, but he was able to take down both of my attackers before they could do anything to me. And he didn't stop there. When we arrived in Bilgewater, he even went so far as to hail me a taxi to take me to my hotel and ride in it himself to make sure the cab driver didn't pull any funny stunts. I understand now that Bilgewater isn't the most reputable of cities, but Jax's gesture of kindness moved me very much. We were never even that close, but just one moment like that makes you feel a special connection to a person._

Irelia was impressed at Sona's story. It seemed the mysterious grandmaster had a knack for being at the right place at the right time to do the right thing. When she boiled it down to that it seemed almost childishly simple, but Jax carried around with him a sense of gentlemanship, which, although he sported a cloak and a lamppost instead of a suit and a cane, made himself an iconic character by the way he perfected that very art of good timing.

_What are you thinking about, Irelia?_ the maven thought, unraveling the web of Irelia's musings.

"Oh, it's just…" Irelia wasn't sure if she wanted to share the conclusion she had reached. It was a foolish aspiration, and probably full of vanity, but she didn't think Sona would be the type of person to judge. "I guess I just want to be like him," she admitted sheepishly. "We already went over this, I guess, but it's just too much to get off my mind I'm not sure if it's the power, or the respect, but both of those qualities are things I'd like to have."

Sona shook her head, a wry smile forming on her lips. _You do worry too much_. She gestured towards the sleeping Lulu whose head now fell over onto Sona's shoulder in the midst of her slumber. _Even though she has lost her best friend, she is still at peace deep inside. I think she is confident you'll be able to retrieve him for her._

The sight of a sleeping yordle was too much for Irelia's previously somber mood, and she couldn't help smiling as well as she watched the peaceful form. "You're right," she stated. "I'm not about to let Lulu down."

By the end of their conversation the sun had long gone down and the stars were already beginning to grace the night sky with their presence. The train was now nearing its destination, and Irelia was looking forward to putting the day's events behind her so they could get an early start on their trek up Mount Targon. Hoping to get the cooperation of the Rakkor for their ascent of the sacred mountain, Irelia was beginning to form up potential conversation openers when a crash suddenly brought the train's progress to a jarring stop.

Forced out of her reverie, Irelia looked to her companion. "What's going on?"

The Maven of the Strings could only shrug her shoulders as one of the security guards passed them. "Everybody remain in the train! We have the situation under control!" he communicated in a loud voice as a tremor rocked the whole train compartment.

"I don't quite think that's the case," Irelia told the musician as she began to get out of her seat. Sona began to mimic her movement, but the swordswoman attempted to stop her.

"Someone's got to watch over Lulu," she instructed.

_I don't think so_, Sona informed her. _I'm going to stay true to my title of suppor_t. Seeing that the maven would not be denied, Irelia decided to drop it and exit the train through an open door. Sona followed close behind, her etwahl now floating in front of her as she took a battle-ready stance.

The train staff out on the sands, upon seeing the newcomers, were about to turn around and order them back inside, but everyone quickly turned their attention to a sink in the ground which was swiftly sucking in sand.

"Quicksand?" Irelia asked.

"No!" screamed a guard. "Hurry, get away!" The hole greatly expanded as a colossal creature burst out of it, leaping into the air and tackling another guard before burrowing back into the earth. The remaining guards quickly backed away from the two holes, pulling out guns in a feeble attempt to defend themselves.

"A landshark," a gruff voice from behind them said. Turning around, Irelia and Sona found Alistar, the Minotaur, at their side, nostrils blazing as he too prepared for combat, flexing his arms as if he was preparing to grab the creature with them the next time it resurfaced.

"Alistar!" Irelia exclaimed. "Do you know what this thing does?"

"Be careful, little one," the bull warned. "One wrong step and you'll end up mummified like that unfortunate man just a second ago." He gestured towards the two holes in the sand. "It can only get you if it can get back into the sand," he explained. "We must prevent it from burrowing. It cannot survive long above ground."

Irelia could see faint ripples move beneath the sand, signalling the landshark's presence. Alistar watched its movements carefully, ready to grapple it as soon as it made its next move, but it continued to circle around the champions and security guards as they retreated into a tight-knit circle of themselves, not wishing to get caught out alone and be left to the mercy of the desert creature.

A deafening screech signalled its next assault. Just as quickly as the first time, it emerged out of the sands, trying to take another guard in its claws as it leaped past them. It swiftly shot past Irelia's sight in a blur of movement, but the Minotaur's reflexes were just as quick and Alistar managed to grab hold of the landshark by its tail, if only for a second. It was forced to drop the guard it had in its clutches so it could use all of its appendages to swat Alistar away before reburrowing into the ground.

Irelia was beginning to catch on to its patterns of movement as she continued to scan the sands for any disturbances ready to hit the surface. Again the creature launched an attack, as Alistar was able to headbutt it away. Knocked prone onto the ground, Irelia realized she only had a few seconds to act before it would just burrow back into the ground, so she called upon her spirit blade, consuming a surge of energy to dash to the creature before carefully aiming a strike to its dorsal fin to ensure it could not quickly outmaneuver them. It was a lot stronger than she expected, however, and a slap of its tail sent her flying back to the group, where Sona played a soothing tune to heal her injuries.

Alistar looked at the unmoving guards disgustingly. "Well, what are you waiting for? Get out there and take it down!" he roared, charging forward himself.

Propelled into action, either by realization that they had the advantage or not willing to be branded with cowardice, the eight or so remaining guards charged at the landshark, which tried its best to evade them by digging underground once more. A few spears clipped its skin, and although it uttered a cry of pain, they did not deter its escape into the sands. Irelia wondered if the injuries would scare it off, but it wanted to stick around, as she noticed ripples in the sand resuming its threatening circling.

Then all of a sudden, it struck again. And this time, it went for her.

Irelia's vision was impeded by a ravenous maw of razor-sharp teeth charging right towards her, and she didn't have the reflexes to dodge as the landshark tackled her to the ground, beginning its burrow. She realized with horror that if nothing extricated it from her, she would find herself entombed under the sand, left to the mercy of this bloodthirsty creature. Alistar attempted to remove the creature from her, but it had grown smarter, a flick of its tail spewing a torrent of sand which struck the Minotaur squarely in his face as he blindly went in for another headbutt but found nothing but air.

_Irelia!_ the voice of Sona faintly reverberated in her head as she began to be pulled under.

Not this time, she swore to herself as she summoned her blades to channel her inner energy. She had to unleash the full potential of the art of the Hiten if she was going to make it out alive.

It didn't seem like she was falling, but she felt her body rapidly descending into the earth, the mass of the landshark oppressively weighing her down. But she could feel the energy of her blades filling her up to the brim, and she willed them to strike at its claws, forcing it to loosen its grip on her. That was all the room she needed, as with a herculean effort, she managed to pull herself around so that she was the one atop the shark, repeatedly hacking at it as they continued their descent.

The beast struck back, harassing Irelia with its tail as it attempted to reorient itself into a more upright position, but with a blade firmly stuck into its skin, she was able to hold on and lay atop its back as it wildly flailed trying to buck her off of it. It took all of her energy to maintain her composure as she took another blade and directed it into its neck, causing the landshark to utter a blood-curling scream as it thrashed and spasmed, its efforts still in vain as Irelia still managed to not be overthrown from her precarious position atop its back. Another blade in its back seemed to finally end its struggle, and she could feel it slowly lose the energy to continue burrowing before it finally stopped.

She then took stock of her surroundings. The tunnels created by the landshark were not much larger than its body, so the carcass filled up the entire tunnel while Irelia, perhaps a fourth of its size, looked up to see that she was about twenty meters below the surface, the dim moonlight in the sky barely enough to appear through the hole in the ground from whence they came. She was going to have to signal that she was alive and well. Summoning a spirit blade once more, she directed it out of the hole and hoped someone would notice the mystical object floating around.

A faint shout or two came from above ground, as she could barely make out the outline of Alistar approach the hole and peer down. "You alright down there?" the Minotaur asked.

"I'm fine," she answered. "It doesn't look like anything on me was broken. Nothing's really crying out in pain, besides this shark over here."

"We'll throw you a rope. Will you be able to climb?"

She sat on the question for a bit. "I'm not sure. I'm not injured too badly, just exhausted," she told him.

"I can pull you up if you just hold on," Alistar offered as the rope began to make its way down. Grabbing the rough material, she held on tightly as she began to feel the tug of the rope from above ground pulling her up. After a grueling ascent, she was able to climb up out of the hole, where she lay down onto the sand, completely fatigued.

"Well?" the Minotaur spoke up to the guards standing around, looking at Irelia in awe. "Are you going to help her out, or are you going to keep a lady in need waiting? Considering she saved all of your lives, I would be ashamed of you all."

A distinct ruffling of feet filled the night air as Irelia found herself lifted onto a stretcher and brought back into the train. A surgeon came to her side to examine her, but she shooed the medical equipment away. "Nothing hurt. Just tired out," she told him as he hurriedly left the scene, leaving the Ionian with Alistar and the blue-haired musician.

The faint sound of Sona's voice flowed through her head. _I'm so glad you're safe._

Irelia tried to smile, coughing as she tried to formulate a response. "Oh… it was nothing."

Alistar's look remained stern, but his voice turned softer. "You were remarkable out there, young one. Few humans could take on a land shark by themselves and hope to survive, let alone slay the beasts themselves."

_See? Look at that, Irelia. You're a hero now._

* * *

The return to consciousness led Irelia to find herself in a modest bed in a small, but cozy room. Finding herself dressed in sleeping attire, she took inventory of her joints, finding nothing impairing her body besides a few sores here and there. A look at the time on the clock on the wall revealed it to be the early morning, and she frowned. She had hoped to be able to manage her own room arrangements, instead of her unconscious body hauled around and deposited into a room, as well as plan the start of today. Irelia had wanted an early beginning of the day so they could work their way up the mountain as soon as possible, but she wasn't sure if either Sona or Lulu would be awake at this hour.

After quickly getting dressed and showering, she walked out of her room to find the yordle sorceress waiting for her, already in her trademark attire. "Good morning, raspberry! Glad you could make it! Miss Sona went to go get breakfast in the parlor downstairs, but she told me to wait for you! She thought you might want to make plans for today as soon as you got up."

Irelia had to admit, she was impressed by the way the maven predicted her intentions. "That's great, Lulu. We'll talk about it once we're all downstairs, then."

Over breakfast, Irelia relayed to them her plan of heading to the station to take the mountain railway up to the beginning of the Rakkor villages. From there, they would make the journey on foot, relying on Lulu's tracking sense to see if they could pinpoint Veigar's location any better when they were on the actual mountain. In return, Sona informed her of the aftermath of Irelia's battle with the landshark. They arrived in Palatin without further incident, with Alistar being courteous enough to direct the three to a hotel where they could stay.

"What's Alistar doing at a place like this?" Irelia inquired.

_He has no place to stay outside of the League,_ Sona informed her. _Considering that Noxus burnt down his village many years ago, he either remained on the Institute grounds or here, the closest place to the Great Barrier that he could consider home. He told me he's become fairly well acquainted with Leona and Pantheon, and that the Rakkor respect him for his incredible fighting ability._

"That would make sense," Irelia said. "I only regret that I was unable to say goodbye to him as well. He's a good friend."

_He's always had a noble soul._

"Hey, you two," Lulu interrupted, "you marshmallows better hurry up, else we'll miss the train!"

* * *

By midmorning the trio had taken the railcar to the lower slopes of Mount Targon, as Irelia had intended. The mountain, still decorated with the snows of winter, provided a pale landscape embroidered by the glistening light of the rising sun. The path upon which they walked was clear of snow, thanks to the efforts of the Rakkor to keep their home in prime condition - although they did not care for decoration, they took an interest in making sure the pathways around their homes were always kept immaculate.

As they entered the Rakkor village, a couple of warriors moved forward to accept them. Irelia felt slightly dwarfed, as she realized their company consisted of three women approaching a community of battle-hardened warriors. Yet she knew that the Rakkor took an interest in the League of Legends, making themselves familiar with all the champions, if only to know their fighting styles and to see how they compared.

"Hail, travelers," one of them greeted them as they moved closer. Upon further inspection, the Rakkor warrior recognized them as champions. "The Will of the Blades. The Maven of the Strings. The Fae Sorceress. Well met." The man bowed in respect.

Irelia returned the gesture. "To whom do we have the honor?"

"My name is Demos. My colleague over here is Aureus. We welcome you to Mount Targon."

* * *

**A/N: **That took a while to chalk up. The land shark here seems a lot like Rek'Sai's species, actually, but they're based in the Shuriman desert while this incident happens on the other side of Mount Targon. Similar creatures, I guess. If the format is messed up I'll fix it, in a rush at the moment.

Next chapter will be back with the boys in Piltover, along with our lovely lady Janna. Stay tuned!


	11. The Delta Syndicate

Something told Jax it wasn't just your typical bar fight.

No, if the sound of gunshots on their trail, the conveniently placed car blockades obstructing all avenues of escape, and the shuffling in of the Piltoverian mafia goons in every nook and cranny of the bar and the buildings all around them were any indication, then it was a bar fight setting a new definition of the word "ruckus."

Hell, he wasn't even aware there was a Piltoverian mafia.

Jax wasn't sure who or what was being targeted in all the chaos. From the urgency in the wind mage's tone when she came out of her incognito disguise to tell them to make a run for it, it seemed like they were in some specific danger. Yet he could sense no one actually tracking them directly. Sure, he had to duck from a few stray bullets here and there, but he didn't sense anything serious or malicious from those shots. It was more of an exodus from the scene in general, because things were continuously getting bloodier and bloodier. Janna may have been overexaggerating their danger, but it wasn't a terrible idea to follow her.

Because of all the outside interference, it was difficult to find a straightforward path to take to leave that city block. Groups of people, whether they were organized thugs or just clumps of rioters created in the spontaneity of it all, blocked the streets, forcing them to cut a very complex trail through the staircases along the side of apartments and buildings, the dark alleyways littered with waste and motor vehicles, and the occasional fences which made Jax glad he mastered his Leap Strike. All of the three were fairly agile, with Zed showing his former Kinkou training, and Janna being able to propel herself up in the air with her natural affinity to it in order to make the extreme hurdles which crossed their path a leisurely walk in the park.

Their flight of fancy didn't seem to have any purpose or end to it as Janna continued to direct them every which way amidst the city maze. In fact, Jax was pretty sure he had passed the same buildings more than once, and he was thinking of calling out to her that what they were doing was nonsense when she finally pointed to a fire escape which they were to climb up.

"We should be safe now," she breathed, her airy voice unperturbed by the massive amount of physical effort which she should have exerted, but ended up not actually needing to use. Indicating a rickety ladder winding up the side of a building, she began to ascend it, signalling for the two to follow. Jax took a look at the path which lay before him. _Any higher and I'd think I was climbing Jacob's ladder_, he thought. After giving way for Zed to climb up before him, he began to grasp the sides and begin his ascent himself. As he climbed higher and higher, the sounds of police car sirens and the angry shouts of the mobs began to fade away before they became nothing but a background noise as opposed to a prominent danger.

Jax stood on the small balcony and looked out at the city shrouded in night, with the only few lights created by the buildings around them - and the fires atop the torches carried around as people converged on the bar in which they were not twenty minutes ago. He whistled. "So," he began.

"It seems we had stumbled on the makings of a not-so-subtle power struggle," Zed observed. The ninja was receiving the chaotic scene in the same way he would read a summons to participate in a match on the Fields of Justice - with nothing more than a mix of slight disinterest and amusement. After a few moments of sizing up the situation, he turned to the wind mage, wordlessly issuing some expectation of an elaboration.

"I don't know much about it," Janna admitted. "At least not as much as Vi or Caitlyn, even Jayce. I'll tell you all I know inside." Pulling out a key from her pocket, she fiddled a little with the keyhole before succeeding in unlocking the door and pushing it open, revealing the living room of a comfy little flat. The layout opened up into a small kitchen in the back, with another door leading into what Jax presumed would be a bedroom.

"I didn't think your living quarters would be something so… modest," Jax commented, marvelling at the miniscule size of the residence compared to the stately mansions he'd seen in some of Piltover's nicer districts. With the looks and reputation of someone like Janna, he would've expected a second story, at the very least.

"It's an old flat of mine," the wind mage told him. "Before I became a League champion… I wanted to be in the broadcasting industry. This dates back to about eight years ago, where I was auditioning to be a weatherwoman on the PBE (Piltover Broadcasting Enterprise)," she added almost bashfully.

"Anyways, once I became a champion, they didn't mind giving me the property rights to this little room up here, because no one bothered to take it when I moved out. I decided to keep it around because it's nice to have a little safe room to yourself and I wanted the privacy. It looks like it came in handy tonight.

"So, about everything," Janna started as she made her way to the fridge in the kitchen. "I don't have much here because I don't stop by very often," she said, tossing a couple of water bottles at the two men who took seats on the couch before taking a seat herself in an armchair.

"Anyways, I know these riots and fighting are likely the work of a group called the Delta Syndicate. They've been a major underground crime ring in the area for about fifteen years, but not many people have heard of them because Cait and Vi do a great job at keeping them under the radar. The organization allegedly wants to overthrow the government and start up some crazy system of anarchy in Piltover. Cait and Vi once uncovered some pamphlets which have their manifesto laid out, but I didn't understand much of that radical talk.

"They haven't had done anything drastic in the past five years, but the police force were getting hints here and there that they might try something again. Their attacks aren't too bad, though, as they don't target any government buildings or the residences of political figures. And they don't do bomb threats. Their leaders seem to look like they get a kick out of getting ordinary citizens riled up and doing some petty vandalizing in the streets," Janna concluded.

"Their aims are clear, but their methods lack refinement," Zed observed. "In this case, we do not seem to be specifically targeted, but it would be unwise to venture back to our hotel any time soon."

Janna nodded in assent. "I don't know how long they want to keep this up, but it might go long through the night." She seemed to have an epiphany, as she suddenly turned to the two men. "So, what are you two doing in Piltover, anyways?"

Jax looked at Zed, who returned his gaze expectantly. It looked like he was going to have to explain. "It's a long story. We actually were expecting some kind of trouble here, but this turned out a bit differently. See, I've done some digging around after that attack on the Institute the other day…" He continued on with the interpretation of the Institute's records, the Dreamweaver attacks, and their concern that Janna herself would end up being the next target. The wind mage listened intently, eyes widening when the subject turned to her safety.

"The Institute… is out to get me?" she asked, horrified as if she was accused of a crime she never committed - which Jax felt suited the situation very well.

"Nothing's set in stone, but we correctly predicted the last two targets," Jax told her, referring to the attacks on Syndra and Sona. "The first creature that attacked us was drawn to the energy of mages, and although yours is more of a supportive quality, it's similar enough that you might be affected in the same way."

Janna shuffled uncomfortably in her seat. "What are we going to do?"

It was a question Jax heard often when talking about the subject matter but had no satisfactory answer to it. Despite their victory over the Dreamweaver, in actuality, they still lagged behind in terms of knowledge on their enemy. No one still knew how to cope with the energy draining techniques besides the presence of a great number of champions, some specifically specializing in defensive shielding to repel the initial burst, at the ready to immediately fight just one creature like that. Though Jax and Zed were both plenty capable in their own sense, he didn't trust a mere party of two to keep Janna safe.

"We try to leave here as soon as possible, and make it back to the Institute to get you in the presence of as many other champions as we can. We've only had success staying in a massive group," Jax tried to make sense of what he knew. "It's a pretty disappointing answer, but that's what we're left with."

"Oh," Janna frowned, not too pleased with her prospects either. "And since those riots outside are going to take a while we might not be able to make for the Institute until pretty late tomorrow."

"That's going to be… less than ideal," Jax said disapprovingly. "This looks like a pretty secluded area up here, though. If there's one place to lie low for a bit, this would be it."

The Master of Shadows, silent up till now, decided to pitch in. "I would not let my guard down so easily… but there is truth in that statement. I do not sense we are being watched."

Janna rubbed her hands gingerly. "So that's decided. It's getting pretty late now, and we want to get out of here as early as we can tomorrow, so I'm going to go to bed." She stood up but stopped in her tracks, realizing the difficulty of finding sleeping arrangements for three people in a small space like the one they were currently in.

"Well… this is a bit inconvenient," she said carefully. "There's only one bedroom and the couch in here only fits one person lying down."

"I'm perfectly alright sleeping on the floor," Jax offered, but Zed quickly stepped in.

"Such an inconvenience is trivial to me," the ninja spoke. "I've spent many a night in much more unfavorable circumstances."

The wind mage shuffled from one foot to another. "I mean… the bed does fit two." Jax and Zed merely stared at Janna, then each other, before she quickly elaborated on her remark. "I'm not trying to pull anything funny! It's just you'd feel a lot more comfortable sleeping in a proper bed when we have an important day tomorrow."

Jax cleared his throat nervously. "Right. Well, if you insist…" He was about to take a step forward but second-guessed himself, considering giving the spot to Zed while he took the couch. In his moment of indecision, however, Zed chose to sprawl out on the couch, legs draped over the side as he tried to orient himself in a position adequate for sleeping.

"I guess that settles that matter."

"I'll get you an extra blanket from the closet," Janna told Zed as she made her way into the bedroom. "You can come in," she called over her shoulder to Jax, who unsteadily followed her in. He was telling himself that nothing funny was going to happen between them, but although his experience with women was unparalleled and his attitude unflappable, there was something about getting into the same bed with a beautiful woman whose normal attire left little to the imagination which made Jax sweat a little.

"Well, have a good night then, grandmaster," Zed quipped from the couch.

He could hear a sinister chuckle from the ninja as he threw his lamppost at him in protest.

* * *

Jax slept in his customary purple robes. He wouldn't have changed them if he could - they were surprisingly comfortable.

He lay there in the queen-sized bed, lying against the headboard as he was waiting for Janna, who was getting ready for sleep in the bathroom. Still in disbelief about the wind mage's willingness to share his bed with someone like him, he took a sip of water before setting it down on the desk next to the bed. Janna and him had little history together. He had a few flings with some female champions of the League, but none of them had been the Storm's Fury, whom he knew to be equally adventurous in her own love life. But none of their interactions to this point had been even a bit sexual, instead only going so far as to do the other a favor or two.

Reflecting on his perception of her, he realized he was never really drawn to Janna in the first place because she felt so high-maintenance. An avatar of the wind, with the attributes of a goddess and the fact that she floated instead of walking, was a bit too otherworldly for him. The women he had been with were a lot more down-to-earth, besides that one time in Bilgewater with the little blue-haired maven. But that was because she was a bit intoxicated and really coming on to him. He had decided later that she wasn't his type.

His pondering came to a halt when Janna stepped out of the bathroom, probably wearing the most clothing he had ever seen on her: a grey hoodie and sweatpants. Yet Jax felt that if anyone could make that austere combination of clothes look fashionable, it would be Janna. He was beginning to think that he preferred this look on her as opposed to her customary dress, which was basically one step up from lingerie. There was no question that her figure was quite desirable in it, and there was many a time where he found himself staring at her exposed body, but he always felt dirty every time he stole a glance. Jax preferred it if women would do that for him on a more personal note, and on his own terms.

The sorceress looked at him, managing a nervous smile as she slipped into bed next to him and drawing the covers under her legs."Hey," she greeted simply.

"Evening," Jax replied with equal bluntless.

"I hope you don't snore," she teased.

"That wouldn't be my fault," Jax countered. "You're the one who invited me into your bed."

She turned away, slightly blushing. "Stop getting onto me about that! I was just trying to be nice."

"I know, I kid." Jax paused for a second. "You know, you never told us why you were chilling in that bar. It seemed like you didn't want anyone to notice you by the way you were dressed."

"Oh," Janna had seemed to forget about her own little escapade. "I just wanted to go out without being noticed for, well, being me and all that. I've been on edge the past few days, with the whole explosion at the Institute, so I thought taking a few days off back home would be good. But between the customs disaster that was the Institute-Piltover train the day after and some meetings at the College of Techmaturgy, I've been pretty tired. A girl just needs a good drink or two without being undisturbed, you know?"

Jax murmured some form of agreement. "Guess it was pretty lucky that we found you there, then. We were going to make a house call to you tomorrow morning."

Janna giggled, lying down on the bed to face him and pulling the covers further over her, leaving only her head and shoulders visible. "And you'd be stuck in the middle of that riot. It'd be a pretty long night for you."

"Aren't you forgetting the fact that we saved your butt out there? For all your undercover drinking efforts, you almost got yourself killed when you decided to stick up for me back there?" Jax queried.

The mischievous smile on Janna's face faded. "I just wanted to help you out," she admitted. "I'm not sure what came over me back there, but something that guy said back there just struck a nerve and had to lash out at him."

"It's alright. You don't need to worry about me, I'll be alright," Jax assured her.

"And back there… when you said I was one of the best supports in the League… it meant a lot."

"I'm just telling it like it is. You might not be as flashy as a Thresh or a Leona, but every time we play a match together I'm confident that you're right there behind me and that you've got my back." It was hard to maintain eye contact at this point. This was getting very sentimental, and he wasn't sure which direction his honor was going to go.

"Thank you, Jax. I never thought you were this kind of guy, to be honest," Janna said.

"I'm not going to say anything too forward here, but getting to know me more might surprise you," he said mysteriously.

"Is that so?" Janna asked. "We'll see about that. Anyways, that's enough for tonight. Is it okay if I turn off the lights?"

"Go ahead," he answered. It wasn't going to go any further, and his mind was pleased at the result, but he felt this tingling sensation which made him think he wasn't so content. In any case, he just wanted it to be morning soon. He lay down, facing the dark ceiling and closing his eyes, waiting for sleep to overtake him.

"Jax?" Janna's voice came quietly from the darkness.

"Yes?"

"It's actually a bit cold in here. This place is pretty low maintenance and the air conditioning in here isn't what I'm used to," she complained.

"That's unfortunate. I haven't been bothered too much," he answered nonchalantly.

Janna groaned. "You should help me out, then."

"What do you have in mind?" He had a good idea of where this was heading.

He felt the bed rock a little as she shifted closer to him, turning her back to him. "Come next to me."

Jax made a show of groaning as he got into position. "Don't act like you wouldn't enjoy it," Janna teased.

"It doesn't feel right," Jax said as he wrapped his arms around her torso and gently pulled her to him.

"We're adults here, you don't need to feel awkward with me." She leaned her head back against his neck and shoulders. "See, that's better. You're pretty warm."

They lay there for a minute before Jax spoke up, wanting to get a question out of his system. "How do you trust me so much? We haven't exactly been the closest."

"I don't. I put it in your hands and wanted to see where you'd take me."

"And what if I wanted to take advantage of you right now?" Jax wasn't a monster, but he knew a lot of men would give up their morals pretty quickly if they were in his position.

"Then we'd be up for quite a while," Janna answered mischievously.

Jax found it hard to grasp this woman's morals. Scratch that. _Hard_ was tower diving Maokai (he had never succeeded at doing so). This was impossible. "Are you saying that if I propositioned you -"

"Yes."

"If I pulled a fast one on you right now you would - "

"Yes."

"You don't have any fear, do you?"

"Do _you_?"

"Not at all," Jax asserted.

"So, are you going to do it?" Her words hung in the air like the lowest hanging fruit he'd ever seen.

"No."

"And that, my dear, is why I trust you," Janna concluded.

He wasn't sure if he or Janna came out the winner in their little scuffle, even though he had a wave of relief come over him. "You play a mean game, woman."

She let out a breezy laugh. "Hey, I actually was cold."

Jax was curious. He knew he shouldn't press the matter further. "And were you actually willing to…?"

"Yes."

"Don't play games with me, woman." He was not winning this.

"We're both willing, and you want to, don't you?" She had it completely under control.

"...Yes."

"But you see, Jax, you've wasted all this time posturing over whether you should or you shouldn't, but you haven't. You and I know very well that we could just stop beating around the bush, but you keep wanting to play my game. What do you say to that, _grandmaster?_" The last word dragged out in the air so long that he could almost see it.

"Good night."

Janna turned around, planting a kiss on his cheek. "Good night, Jax."

* * *

It might have been a dream. It was very likely that he was dreaming, for the circumstances in which Jax awoke were far different than the last thing he remembered.

There were loud scuffling noises coming from the living room, and the sound of several - seven? ten? - men putting in a lot of effort at trying to deal with some particularly troublesome person. _Zed, _Jax realized.

Janna was already sitting up, the sleep completely gone from her eyes as she quickly grasped the situation and made for her staff lying on the wall. Jax, unfortunately, had his lamp post in the living room, and he was fairly sure he wouldn't be seeing it any time soon. It wouldn't be a problem in the long term, as it wasn't anything special, but it was going to be a hassle as of now.

Zed sounded like he was keeping all of them at bay, but not for long. The ninja cried out in pain as Jax heard a body hit the wall. Then three others.

Scrambling for the door, Jax opened it to see Zed backed up against a shelf, rising from being thrown against it. On the other side of the living room, three other men were mimicking his posture, but weren't faring as well. Yet there were still seven others standing around, waiting for the ninja to give.

"Looks like we've got company," a large man at the front declared. He was a good six inches taller than Jax, and almost three times as wide, wearing a black leather jacket with a triangle emblem on his chest. A Delta. The man, along with his companions, were all armed with guns, some even brandishing knives. One of them in the back was carrying Jax's lamp post. The bastard.

"Hey, it's the target!" another voice from behind the leader cried out, pointing not at Jax, but behind him in the corridor. They were going for Janna, and as he finished his sentence, four of them charged at Jax and Janna, who quickly backed away into the bedroom. He realized his mistake, as they were now in a smaller room with no chance to evade, but it was too late.

"Stay behind me," Jax instructed as he looked for a way to deal with four armed men. His martial arts skills weren't terrible, but he wouldn't put his money on it. He had only spent a few months learning from an Ionian guru or two, and that would hardly be enough. Lee Sin had told him one time that he spent twelve years refining his skills, and even the Blind Monk would be hard pressed to deal with a problem with such tipped scales as this.

"Looking out for your girlfriend, ey, punk?" one of them taunted as they made their way towards him. It didn't like they wanted to kill him, although they had multiple guns at near point-blank range.

The closest one to Janna was nearly upon her, and she backed up to the window, ready to make a jump for it if needed. Jax wasn't worried about that, as she was a wind mage after all, but the other men had also realized this and were positioning themselves in a way so that she couldn't escape.

"Now, don't struggle, and we won't hurt you, missie," the goon instructed. He was about to grab her by the shoulders when he suddenly stopped, uttering a guttural shriek as he fell over, a shuriken cleanly buried in his neck.

The three remaining men looked behind their backs at Zed, who was already moving towards them. The rest of the men in the other room took their pistols and shot at him, but he was able to intercept them with his shadow as he blinked to the men in the bedroom, cutting down another with the blades fitted on his arms.

Jax immediately took the window of opportunity to grab the wrist of the man closest to him and twist it at a severe angle, causing him to yelp in pain as his gun fired wildly. A knee to the stomach put him down as Jax took his weapons while the last man in the room turned on him, but Jax put a knife through his gun hand, making him drop the weapon as he cried out before he too was shoved unceremoniously to the ground.

That left four men in the living room, and they had seemed to give up on trying to take them alive. Zed's shadow had just as much agility as its master did, but he couldn't hold on to it much longer, and it eventually dissipated.

"Leave," he commanded them.

"No! We won't leave you!" Janna protested as a bullet whizzed by her head.

"He's right," Jax told her as he pulled her to the window. "Don't worry about him, he'll be fine. He's still got one shadow left in him."

Janna looked at him with a forlorn expression in her eyes, but she quickly hardened up as she put one foot on the window sill. "You might want to hold on to me for this."

"Of course," Jax agreed, taking her hand as he draped both legs over the ledge. He could hear Zed's laugh as he performed his Death Mark. The sound of a bullet hitting its mark stopped his heart for a second before Janna pulled them over the edge and down into the streets.

* * *

**A/N: **This was kind of disappointing imo and I apologize if you feel that way too, unless you like mushy scenes like that I guess. (Jax/Janna isn't becoming a thing if you were wondering) I just wanted to get it out of the way that Jax is far from being a sleazy guy, but I'm not going to make him that one cool perfect invincible guy that he might seem to be. Also, Zed is surprisingly honorable in this story, taking all the hits for Jax. What a nice guy. Would be sad if something bad happened to him, wouldn't it?

Anyways, back to the Mount Targon storyline for me.


	12. The Dawn and the Dusk

The Rakkor have a saying: _The clouds will give way to the sun. _It is usually said as a gesture of motivation, as just how the sun will eventually shine through a cloud cover, people will eventually overcome their problems one way or another. It is a society built on strength, but it doesn't have to be a cruel one.

"That is one of the differences between us and Noxus," Demos was telling them as he directed them towards the exit of the village where the mountain path continued up the peak. Irelia and company had politely declined an invitation to eat lunch in the village, citing their necessity to travel up the mountain as quickly as possible. Upon hearing their intent to rescue Veigar, the Rakkor had showed their consolation, but admitted they did not admire the work of mages as much as the prowess of traditional fighters. Towards Irelia they revealed a fascination with her style of fighting, the Hiten style a far cry from the brute force method the Rakkor chose to employ instead.

"To become one with your weapon," Demos commented in admiration, "is a task none of us have truly managed to complete. For us they are vessels which we use to channel our strength, but you have created a bond which exceeds any familiarity with our weapons we could hope to achieve."

"It is the vessel that channels her soul," Aureus agreed solemnly.

"That's how I would describe it," Irelia said, pleased with the characterization they chalked up. "I don't have to command my blades with my arms, only my mind. But I can still feel something there in my hands, like I'm still wielding it. It's a bit different from telekinesis."

"And may it serve you well," Demos replied as they reached the perimeter of the village. "Well, this is where we leave you."

"We'll see you soon, pointy-speary men!" Lulu chirped up in farewell.

"Godspeed to you two," Irelia saluted.

"Without pause." The short phrase, which she had heard Pantheon use as a kind of "signing-off," seemed to be commonplace among Rakkor society. And so the company split in two, the three women resuming their ascent.

"Do you sense anything clearer, Lulu?" Irelia asked.

Lulu closed her eyes in concentration. She didn't say anything for a while, which was odd when her previous location senses had resulted in information almost instantly. Eventually, however, she opened her eyes with a satisfied look on her face.

"He's pretty far up there! Maybe as high as the Solari! I wonder what he's doing there," she informed them.

Irelia didn't have the slightest idea. According to what the Rakkor told her, the Solari made their home on a rocky plain about a thousand feet below the summit. She doubted that the creature which took Veigar made its residence on that same plain, so it had to have its lair somewhere near.

"Perhaps the Solari will have more answers," she decided.

The Maven of the Strings floated on next to her. _It looks like quite the journey. How long do you think it will take?_

"I'm hoping to get there before sundown," Irelia answered her. "Especially considering that we're going to encounter the Solari, I'd like to talk to them while the sun is up. It would put them in a better mood to talk about anything as distressing as our case."

_It's a shame, don't you think? _Sona mused. _The highest point on Valoran would have such a nice view of the night sky, and yet the Solari are the one society who do not wish to gaze upon it._

"It's pretty ironic," Irelia agreed. "I suppose the sunrises here would be equally as impressive. Leona's told me that the way they arrange the temples make it so that on the solstice, the sun's rays shine directly on the altar at certain times. There's some mystical glow that comes out of the temples supposedly. It would be nice to see if I ever had the chance to come here in the summer."

A contemplative chord sound rung through Irelia's mind, which indicated Sona was in deep thought. _I do like the Radiant Dawn, but a few times I've shared the company of the Scorn of the Moon, and her take on astronomy is equally captivating._

Irelia didn't share Sona's interest for the woman who, to her knowledge, was branded a heretic by the Solari for attempting to bring the moon back into their belief system. "Diana is… an interesting case. It's not that I disagree with her expressing her ideology, but the way she goes about it is entirely insane. Leona is infinitely more pleasant to be around."

_Do you enjoy the moon, though?_

"It's beautiful," Irelia admitted. "I was never much of a stargazer when I was younger, though. For my father, it was always up as the sun rises and sleep soon after it sets. By the time it was dark I was so exhausted from training that I'd just drag myself inside to read a book by candlelight rather than sit outside and just look at the sky. Looking back on it, I guess, I could've done with a couple of those outdoor sessions."

_I've always been a moon person, _Sona confessed. _I appreciate all times of day, but while the sun is so prominent in the sky, so glorified, the moon is just out there like a crystal ball. It's shrouded in mystery, but it always looks like it wants to tell me something._

"I never really understood why the sects split off into only worshipping one each," Irelia wondered. "I don't see the problem in enjoying both the sun and the moon, but I guess that's not something we should really bring up when we talk to the Solari elders."

They had reached a particularly wide cliff, where they could behold the midday sun on a cloudless sky shining light all over Valoran. Below them lay the circular foundation which was the Institute of War, and further along the horizon they could make out the city of Noxus, a dark layer shrouding the city despite the day's brightness. Irelia thought she could make out the faint outlines of the Piltover skyscrapers next to the ocean.

_I wonder how Jax is doing, _she thought to herself.

_I'm sure he's alright. No need to worry your heart out, _a foreign mind interrupted.

"Sona!" Irelia cried out loud, startling herself and Lulu, who merely shrugged and looked away, more interested in the types of rocks which made up the mountainside.

The maven put a hand to her mouth to hide her amusement. _I'm sorry! Everyone seems to forget that they let me into their thoughts, so I've eavesdropped on quite a few things. I like to think I'm trustworthy though._

"Of course," Irelia replied. "You just startled me, that's all." She decided to take the conversation a more private direction, communicating with her thoughts because there were some things she didn't really want to let Lulu know.

_I'm kind of lost without him, _Irelia told the maven. _He's the one who knows what to do, how we should approach these creatures. Even though none of the champions have actually encountered these things before, besides Kassadin, he didn't seem to be lost at all. Now I have to call the shots, and I feel like… I need him._

_You give him too much credit, _Sona responded. _Well, maybe not too much, but you've done your part in all this. Don't forget yesterday. That accomplishment was all you._

Suddenly, Lulu piped up excitedly, pointing at a large statue which was carved out of the mountainside. "Look, fruitcakes!"

The other two women turned their gazes upwards to behold the figurine, a shining bronze color which matched the rock face of the mountain in which it was held. If memory served Irelia well, it was a representation of the first Avatar of the Sun, Solara, from whose name the Solari derived their conclave and their religion. Irelia estimated the statue to stand about sixty feet high, the figure holding a sword high above its head with a shield half the size of its body secured in the other hand. It looked to be almost animated, the sculptor showing a good deal of proficiency in giving their creation lifelike characteristics, as if the statue was leading an army into battle herself.

"We must be pretty close to the Solari!" Lulu continued. And she was correct, as when they got closer to the statue, they could see on the other side the towering golden gates which marked the entrance of the Solari settlement. Two watchtowers stood on either side of the gates, with a walkway placed high atop the ramparts so sentinels could see all in the valley below. Just like the Rakkor below them, they would have a sentry or two watching their entrance. The Solari would not be as welcoming and inclusive as the Rakkor, as they were a more monastic society keen on maintaining the sanctity of their surroundings.

"Who goes there?" a loud voice demanded as they arrived at the gates of the Solari. It came from a lower tower-like structure, a small post set within the rock about twenty-five feet high, with a small upraised roof which gave a floor at the top of the structure for someone to stand watch in.

Irelia stepped forward. "I'm Irelia, Will of the Blades, a champion of the League of Legends. With me are Sona and Lulu, also two champions. We seek entrance into the Solari conclave in order to search for a missing friend of ours."

The Solari sentinel scoffed. "To be lost up here, one must first be able to get up here. I assure you there have been no new presences who have entered the conclave in the past two weeks."

"He was taken! A black-winged creature seized him and we tracked it to the top of this mountain," Irelia explained.

Again, the sentinel was not impressed. "There's nothing up here but us. We made sure of that centuries ago. I acknowledge your status as champions, but that does not grant you a free pass to wherever you wish to go on Runeterra. The Solari conclave is specifically closed to all outsiders without specific business with the Order."

"That's absurd!" Irelia protested. "We're not going to interfere with any of your temples, or artifacts, or anything! We just want access to the mountain to find this creature and rescue our friend. He's a fellow champion too. You might have heard of him! Veigar? The Tiny Master of Evil?" Such an epithet was unlikely to help her cause, but she figured it was worth a try.

Her efforts proved futile, as the Solari wouldn't give a single inch of ground. "Sorry. The conclave is closed."

"You can't just -"

"I need not repeat myself." The words were thrown at them like an icy dart.

All of a sudden, Irelia could sense her surroundings brighten, even though the sun was already high in the sky on a cloudless day. "Is there a problem here?" she heard a kind, yet commanding female voice ask.

"Y-Your Radiance!" the guard sputtered profusely. "I did not expect you to come to the gates today! I thought you would be attending to your duties in the sanctuary or -"

"I am not an adolescent any more, sir," the woman responded. "You don't have to worry about what I'm doing every hour." From that distance Irelia couldn't quite make out her individual features, but it didn't take a genius to realize who had just chosen to join the conversation.

"Hey! Miss Leona!" Lulu waved, trying to get the auburn-haired woman's attention. Leona turned her gaze downwards, needing a moment before recognition passed over her face. "Irelia, Lulu, Sona, what a surprise to see you! I wouldn't think you'd make the journey all the way up Mount Targon."

"I would love to explain everything to you, Leona," Irelia called out, "but I can't exactly do that if your people won't let me in."

Leona turned to the sentry, her expression turning into a glare, magnified by the brightness of her armor. "Give them clearance. Consider it a personal favor from me."

"Yes, my lady," the man sighed as he opened the gates.

"Don't give me any more attitude, else I'll have a word with the chief elders about the conduct of _some _of our sentinels," Leona threatened.

The threat being an effective deterrence, the sentinel made a quick disappearance as the Solari woman indicated for the group to enter. The oak fixtures opened inwards, revealing a panorama of classical architecture, the pathway leading up to a myriad of buildings composed of marble columns which looked weathered by time yet still stood formidably as a testament to the permanence of the Solari. Leona met them once they had entered, dressed in the customary battle armor she wore on the Fields of Justice.

"Sorry for the inconvenience," Leona apologized. "They've always been strict, but no one's quite been the same ever since… Diana. And when she was admitted into the League, it took a turn for the worse."

Irelia nodded in understanding. "I can see why they weren't too impressed with our champion status, then. It was quite a different reception with the Rakkor."

"I've found the two very different, although we are allies and share the same interests for the most part. But enough of me. Do tell me why you've come here. I'm fairly sure it wasn't just to say hi to me," Leona inquired.

And Irelia went on to explain the whole story to her, straight from the very beginning. It was a tiring story to tell, especially when it came to the parts directly involving Sona, but she managed to finish the tale to an incredulous Leona. "So we were wondering how much uncharted territory is actually up here," she finished.

The Radiant Dawn took a moment to process all the information she had received. Irelia knew that her story was unbelievable at one point and downright absurd at another, but she thought Leona would be one of the more reasonable ones to receive it. "There is a cave," she started. "A hidden grotto, in fact. It was where Diana used to spend her nights in reverence to the moon. When she fled the conclave, the confiscation of her belongings turned up a few maps where she was studying the Lunari civilization. We don't have much use for them, so I can pull them up from the archives for you. I'm fairly sure there's no other place on the peak where Solari eyes have not examined where any such creature that you described may be lurking."

"Thank you, Leona, that may be what we're looking for," Irelia expressed her gratitude.

"I'll be back soon with the scrolls," Leona informed them, turning to walk towards a large domed building, its emerald rooftop tiles reflecting the sun's light and making the top of the building shine like a beacon.

_I felt… sadness in Leona's heart. The issue of Diana deeply affected her_, Sona noted.

"It's betrayal." Irelia made no effort to hide the mirth in her words. "I can't imagine what I would do if another of the Ionian champions turned their back on their country. Leona must have been humiliated."

_More like devastated_, Sona corrected her. _She didn't want to let her go._

* * *

Despite Irelia's insistence that the group was fine and could manage on their own, Leona decided to accompany them down a steep hill where the abandoned Lunari temple hid itself. She didn't feel it was right to bring a Solari into an environment filled with relics of a rival civilization, but the avatar of the sun showed no dismay towards her surroundings.

"We're talking about the life of another champion here," Leona had explained. "I don't think I would have it in my heart to sit back and withhold giving my assistance if I could help."

She had spoken like a true support, and Irelia came to the realization that she was now traveling with three champions who specialized in supporting. They would have her back for sure - but would she be able to do the same for them?

"It's just around this slope," Leona told them as they neared the destination. In a rocky alcove where vegetation had grown unchecked to the point where the branches of trees began to grow alongside the aged columns, one of the last remnants of the Lunari civilization stood in all its faded glory. Despite the thickness of the leaves obscuring her vision, Irelia could make out the mural of a crescent moon atop a worn-down temple roof.

"Wow, moon-lady's temple!" Lulu exclaimed excitedly as she navigated the uneven terrain and quickly disappeared behind a pillar in her efforts to investigate more.

Irelia sighed. "I guess we'll have to follow her in."

"Go on," Leona encouraged. "Don't worry about me. It's not like I'm allergic to the moon."

When they made their way into the temple proper, Irelia had to confess she was amazed by the depictions of the night sky and space which littered the walls of the temple. _If nothing else_, Irelia thought to herself,_ the Lunari were great artists._

_So is Diana_, Sona informed her.

One particular fresco caught Irelia's eye. It was a story told in multiple panels, and she followed what appeared to be a tale of the birth of a lunar goddess. She had been sent to the earth in the wake of a meteorite in the middle of a great war. A society had predicted the coming of the meteorite to be a sign of the heavens giving them fortune. Although they had been losing the battles, the goddess appeared among them to rally the troops. With a crescent-shaped blade, she led the soldiers to victory and saved the civilization.

"That is disturbingly close to the weapon I've seen Diana use," Irelia noted.

"I would go so far as to say it's the very same one," Leona answered sadly.

Her response shocked Irelia. "You aren't saying you believe in the Lunari mythology?" she asked.

"It's a very different story than what most people know about the Solari," Leona explained. "We did start out as a ditheistic society, and we shared the same gods. The sects diverged because there were those who believed they could harness the weapons of the moon to become a militarized society bent on conquest. Those who later became the Solari tried to remind them that our gods did not come to this earth to put us up above the rest. They only came to defend us, to make sure their followers would survive for centuries so there would always be a mouth alive readily glorifying their names.

"In truth, the Solari feared the Lunari. They did not want to think what should happen if the Lunari furthered their interests. We would've strayed from our ideals and lost the favor of our gods. It would've surely been the path to our own destruction. So in order to prevent that from happening, we had to take it upon ourselves." Leona closed her eyes sadly.

"You didn't…" Irelia said, fearing the continuation of the story.

"Our ancestors didn't want to do it. But our gods had warned us of their endless ambition. If we did not cast the first strike, the Lunari armies would have become an insurmountable force, a war machine we wouldn't be able to stop. So the Radiant Dawn back then led a crusade against our own brothers and sisters. They didn't want to slaughter their own people. But to the Solari, the Lunari had already alienated themselves.

"No Solari is proud of what they did hundreds of years ago. It was complete annihilation. You would call it genocide nowadays. But we hid all traces of moon worship from our society, and we embraced the sun, whose guiding light never calls us to war against our fellow human being. It extinguishes the demons inside of us. Its light protects us from all… even from ourselves.

"Diana did not know this when she first made her investigations into the history of the Lunari. The elders had told her of our concealed history, but she was too caught up in her own findings and refused to accept the fact that the Lunari could be evil in her eyes. Ultimately her pride got the better of her, and you've seen what she has become. An outcast. Naive and misguided, but an outcast all the same."

Leona's story rendered Irelia speechless. She had always agreed with Leona's viewpoint, but the revelation of the dark past of the Solari and Lunari complicated matters. Maybe it wasn't so black and white after all. But it was useless to reflect on the past when they still had a friend to save.

"The inner chamber is over here," Leona pointed out. "It's the last place we have to look."

At the end of the main room, a few steps prefaced a large ornate stone slab which signified a room behind it. It had already been pushed away, doubtlessly by the Scorn of the Moon, the only person to willingly step foot in the temple.

_Do you sense something, Irelia?_ Sona asked worriedly.

"I have an uneasy feeling." Her blades wandered around her protectively. "But I've had it ever since I stepped foot in the temple. I would never feel completely comfortable here knowing the history of this place."

"There's something here," Leona agreed as she warily entered the inner sanctum. She pointed to a motionless figure lying on an altar. "That must be…"

"Veigar!" Lulu cried out, her voice full of concern for once. Before Irelia could call out to be careful, she bounded up the steps and went to the side of her friend. "Are you okay, buddy?"

The black-furred yordle didn't respond, despite insistent shaking from Lulu and even a slap in the face or two. Her little companion Pix flew up in Veigar's face, trying to elicit a reaction, but to no avail. "Why won't he say anything?" she asked in frustration.

Sona moved past Lulu, placing a hand on the mage's chest. _He's breathing. Highly distressed, errant breathing, but he will live._

Irelia related the information to the others, but it didn't seem to calm Lulu down, who was more grumpy and impatient with him than worried. "Let's just get out of here quickly," she pleaded.

"I'm with you," Leona agreed, easily picking up Veigar's body in one hand. They were just about to head out when an ear-piercing shriek filled the chamber, echoing off the walls and causing all of them to close their ears in discomfort. Whirling around in an attempt to find the direction of the noise, Irelia looked with horror as she saw a black mass similar to the one which materialized out of Veigar's Event Horizon begin to form out of the wall itself.

Within a few seconds it took the shape of the winged creature from before. The dim lighting of the chamber didn't help Irelia's sight at all, but she thought it was a little bigger than before. She sincerely hoped that her eyes were playing tricks on her. But she didn't have any more time to muse, as it began to make a dive for Leona, who was carrying Veigar. The Solari was able to raise her shield in time to deflect the brunt of the blow, but she still staggered back from the immense impact and fell over with Veigar's body lying atop her. Sona quickly rushed to her side, and Lulu, now determined to make amends for what happened to her fellow yordle, issued forth a torrent of sparkling particles from her wand.

"Take this! And that, you good-for-nothing beast! Don't give it any mercy, Pix!"

Despite her efforts, the creature hardly seem bothered by her constant harass, and with almost a lazily backhand swing of its wings, threw her against a wall.

Not one to idly stand by, Irelia ran to the creature and ordered her blades to attack its wings, hoping to strike at what she thought were its most vital regions. But it was able to react quickly enough to her flank and sidestep the strike, bouncing back to land a blow itself using its claws. She was able to turn it away onto her protected shoulder blade, although the impact still caused her to stagger back. On the other side of the creature, Leona had gotten up and threw an image of her sword at the creature. When the golden projection passed through it, she quickly dashed in front of it, immobilizing it for a second. Before it could recover, she bashed it on the head with her shield, further stunning it and allowing Irelia to get a few good hits on it while Sona tended to their wounds, playing a motivating aria to empower them to continue.

It wasn't long, however, before the creature managed to extricate itself from the lockdown Leona had inflicted upon it and created some distance away from them, flapping its wings backwards and creating a tornado which the two women only barely sidestepped. Lulu, who had recovered her bearings this time, cast a protective shield on Irelia, who took the opportunity to once more dash to the creature. Predicting a side step, she pushed herself off the wall behind it and used her blades to ricochet towards it at a strange angle which prevented it from blocking in time. Immediately rotating her blades in front of her, she delivered a slash to its wings successfully this time, causing it to shriek in pain as it wildly spasmed, the injured wing smacking Irelia squarely in the face and forcing her to back off.

Turning on her, it chose a headlong assault, threatening to impale her with the horn on its head, but Irelia was able to throw one of her blades at it to intercept its trajectory as she rolled to the side, not tempting fate for a second. Deciding to alleviate some of the burden onto herself, Leona once again charged forward to meet it, her shield glowing in anticipation of its next attack as she aimed to bash it upon the head with her shield once more. On the other side, Irelia would not relent for a second, combining her blades into the likeness of a great sword and swung, clipping the creature's legs while it tried to maneuver out of Leona's range. Yet despite their success at landing a potshot here and there, they could do nothing to injure its endurance or threaten its vitality. Fortunately, Sona's constant encouraging tones ensured that they could match its toughness.

Still, despite their prowess as champions, the creature far outclassed them in terms of sheer power. Irelia had made a grave misstep in attempting to dance around the frenzy created by its claws and suffered a cut between the chinks in her armor. She was forced to retreat for a second to attend to her wounds - or rather, wait for Sona to cast a healing spell to rejuvenate her - and the creature took the time to take their scuffle to the next level. Surrounding itself with its wings, as if to encase itself in a cocoon. Unsure how to approach this different form, the women hesitated for a second, but soon they found themselves unable to see it, as darkness began to cover it completely, slowly radiating from the creature until it obscured their entire vision as it filled the room.

"What's going on?" Leona asked, clearly discomforted by the sudden darkness. An avatar of the sun was always able to have a guiding light around her, but even she seemed to lose track of everything in the blackness. Even under the effects of Nocturne, she could at least see around her, but being at a total loss for sight was certainly disorienting. Sona expressed similar concern in Irelia's mind.

"I remember this," she called out into the obscurity. "Don't stop moving! It's supposed to prevent you from being able to do anything." Remembering her previous encounter with the Dreamweaver, she shuddered as she remembered the slow descent into paralysis and inaction. Being restrained from moving, yet having her mind fully aware of what was happening, was a terror to witness.

Were there any of those green lights popping up? Irelia made some motions vaguely resembling turning to what she thought was her left and right, but at this point she had lost all sense of direction and flailed around helplessly in the darkness.

Maybe it was behind her. She could feel a chill go down her spine as she felt fear begin to grip her. Her legs up to this point were trembling uncontrollably, but now they had stopped moving completely, and that was arguably worse. Irelia really hoped it wasn't behind her.

Suddenly, she could hear Lulu's cry of distress and a soft thump as a body hit the floor. It's happening again, she thought, her mind terrorized by possibilities of what was happening in the deep unknown. Last time, they had all succumbed to this technique of shadow, except for Jax, who had somehow found the Dreamweaver in the dark and was able to end the spell. No… this is where we fall, one by one… Jax, I need you.

Now it was there, behind her. She didn't need to sense its presence to realize that. The complete disappearance of noise made that evident to her, and the silence was tantalizing, teasing her in her state of weakness. Irelia reached out in her mind for her blades, but she couldn't even sense them there, much less see them. Petrification had almost completely set in.

There was the raise of the claw. It would descend on her, and it would all be over there. In the last few moments of desperation, her vocal cords found the strength to utter a few words.

"DON'T DO IT!"

Father would be disappointed in how pathetic she sounded. Yet Irelia couldn't even control the insane blabbering coming out of her.

"PLEASE!"

The strike was on its way down, just like the stroke of the pendulum.

And all of a sudden, all was light.

It came from the edge of the room, before rapidly permeating into the center and exploding outwards once again. Irelia could see Leona holding her sword in the air, the tip glowing with that sweet, warm brightness.

And the winged demon was caught in its executing swing, still right behind her. Dropping to her knees, not being able to muster the strength to actually face it, Irelia scrambled on the ground to put as much distance between it and her before she could get right herself once more.

Still delighting in her fear, it recovered and made its way towards her, ready to pounce. Irelia's blades were with her once more, and she realized this was going to be her final stand.

"Hugeify!" a voice cried out.

Energy rushed back into her, invigorating her joints. She could feel her limbs rapidly extending and her size increase. The effect of Lulu's Wild Growth had augmented her to twice her size, and she could now tower over the creature, which seemed to take a defensive stance for once. Irelia charged. You did not make a fool out of her. Attempting to deprive the Ionian of her strength would only end badly for the aggressor. And there was nothing she took more pleasure in than exacting revenge on those which tried to break her will.

The movement of her blades was savage, but still maintained the art which her father drilled into her. "Every ripple is a sign of things to come." His words echoed as she moved in reaction to the defenses it tried to throw up, predicting its movements masterfully and weaving the blades past the creature's attempts to block her onslaught and finally making progress. More and more strikes pierced its skin, and it was evident that its endurance was crumbling. Leona now approached from the other side and once more locked it down with the image of her sword rushing into it. She slammed into it just as Irelia landed a nasty cut right across its neck. The creature crashed into the ground, its wings twitching as it tried in vain to lift itself up.

"Finish it," Leona instructed. Irelia nodded, the fury blazing in her eyes.

With her hand tracing the movement of her blade, she made one swift descending movement, and it was finished.

The body of the creature lay lifelessly as Irelia cautiously walked up to it and extricated her blade from it. She could take a good look at it now, and saw the pale blue skin, batlike wings, and horn, how the animalistic characteristics were plastered on an otherwise human-like form. Its face was contorted beyond belief, hardly resembling anything like a man's face, and more like a creature from the Void.

There was no blood, which, although abnormal, didn't surprise Irelia. These creatures were purely supernatural, but she was glad a sharp sword stuck through them would still hurt a lot.

What she didn't expect was for its body to dissolve into a pool of blackness, just as it originated, and seep down into the floor of the temple. She reached down to where it had lay and felt the floor with her hands. Completely dry. All trace of the liquid had vanished.

Irelia brought herself up to a standing position, meeting the gazes of Leona, Sona, and Lulu, all who seemed relatively unhurt. "It's not over," she announced, grimacing.

"Far from it," Leona agreed grimly. "I have to admit, I had doubts from your story, but witnessing these creatures for myself is something else altogether."

"Yet another thing that is still probably out there, waiting for the next time it can strike," Irelia mused. "At least we saved… Veigar!" She rushed to the still-prone body of the yordle, Lulu not far behind.

The mage's eyes fluttered open slowly. "Ugh...no more." The voice was weak, barely above a whisper.

Yet it was enough for Lulu. "Veigar! I'm so glad you're okay!"

"Lulu," he croaked. "It's you. Please tell me this is real."

The yordle's face could barely hold her wide smile. "It's one hundred percent me! Absolutely trim as a thimble!"

Irelia was happy to hear Lulu's nonsensical phrases once more. To have that dose of insanity in her life was, oddly enough, a sign of normalcy. "Glad to have them reunited."

"The visions," Veigar complained. "They wouldn't stop… Horrible demons… a web that wouldn't stop circling, again and again…"

"Hush," Lulu said, putting a finger to his mouth. "No more. We're just going home now."

* * *

By the time they had exited the temple, the sun had set. True to her roots, Leona had taken that opportunity to leave the company, citing duties for the Solari that still needed attention. Irelia, Sona, Lulu, and the barely-conscious Veigar, who had to be brought down the mountain in a wheelbarrow, finally arrived back at the Rakkor village three hours after nightfall. It was too late to take the railcar to Palatin, so they had to improvise and find lodgings with the Rakkor before they could properly leave Mount Targon. But even before the issue of having a roof under their heads to spend the night, there were a few unhappy stomachs rumbling.

"I'll be the first to admit, I'm absolutely famished," Irelia announced to the group. Sona nodded in agreement.

"I'm so hungry, I could eat a whole table! And maybe the tablecloth too," Lulu added.

"Mutton…" was all Veigar contributed to the conversation.

"I guess that settles that," Irelia decided as she led the way into a tavern, thankful someone was still around at this hour.

"If we could order four helpings of lamb…" Irelia started as the man behind the counter turned around, revealing a familiar face...well, helmet.

"Pantheon?"

"The one and only," the famed warrior announced.

"You might be the last person I would expect to be behind a counter, cleaning glasses," Irelia joked. There were rumors of the Rakkor warrior eventually wanting to start a hobby in the baking industry, but Irelia never really gave those much thought. If those were true, she thought, he was actually well-rounded in the various culinary departments.

"You underestimate me. I will assure you I am not a single-track mind! But enough of this petty talk. I heard you stopped by here on the way to the summit. Had some business with the Solari?"

"Long story." Irelia deflected the issue, not wanting to delve into any more talk regarding the mysterious creatures which had plagued them the past few weeks. "What brings you here? You weren't in town earlier."

"I had just arrived from the Institute. I took the midday train because they are still not resuming matches! It is a travesty!" the Artisan of War informed them, evidently upset about the lack of fighting.

"Again? When last we heard, they were planning on resuming matches tomorrow or the day after," Irelia offered.

"That would be true, but another one of those interior issues happened again," Pantheon explained. "Some attack on a champion and now they've been hospitalized. Piltover's in uproar and they're demanding explanations from the Institute. Everyone is going on about public relations and images. Bah! Political battles are not the ones I was born to fight."

"Wait, a champion's been hurt?" Irelia asked. "Who was it?" If Piltover itself was getting into the mess of things, then it had to be something serious. Iconic champions like Ezreal and Jayce were popular among the fans, and if the Institute couldn't keep their sabotage under the table, it would surely spark some international debacle.

"That pink-haired partner of the Sheriff. Vi."

* * *

**A/N: **That came out ahead of schedule. I found the Targon background pretty fun to write about, as it's quite similar to the Greco-Roman culture. There's a surprising amount here about Diana, despite her not actually appearing, and I may have been carried away with that backstory lol.

Also, this chapter was so long cause I really wanted to hit 50,000 words. It's more than I've ever written before, and I hope I can keep this up!


	13. The Dreadnaught

Descending, down, down, down to your own demise.

It's not the fear of heights. It's the fear of falling. And when the sensation of falling is replaced with leisurely floating in the air with a gorgeous woman in your arms, then who wouldn't play a little with the dice and cheat Death a little?

Jax wouldn't. Because the gunshots were still raining down from above, and he was relying highly on Janna's ability to maneuver carefully between the apartment stairs and dodge bullets through creative use of clotheslines in order to stay alive. He couldn't wait to hit the ground, jumping ship about fifteen feet from the ground and losing no momentum, performing a forward tuck and roll and continuing to run. Janna floated along next to him.

He would've lied if he said he wasn't exhausted. Gauging that he had, at best, two hours of sleep before their untimely interruption, he relied on the adrenaline surge which was now flowing through his veins to get him to place one foot in front of the other. He wasn't sure of the effort needed to maintain a constant levitating posture, but by the equally tired look on Janna's face, it didn't seem like a breeze for her either.

The constant running was really getting old. If Janna's secret residence wasn't hidden well enough, he was pretty sure there wouldn't be another safe haven anywhere nearby. And there wouldn't be any stopping any time soon.

"The train station," Janna said, seeming to read his thoughts. "We might as well make a run for it, and at least we'll get some protection from the Institute staff there."

"The same Institute that wants to shoot you out of the sky and destroy your identity?" Jax countered.

"Well… I think it's better than dealing with the thugs of the Delta Syndicate," the wind mage reasoned.

"That's…" Jax almost stopped running when he came to the realization. "That's all the same thing. This Delta Syndicate is just the Institute's operative base in Piltover."

"You're saying… the Institute wants to take over the city, too?" Janna asked, catching on to the grave implications.

"I don't think that's their goal," Jax mused. "All the Institute wants is to strip away the glory from the popular champions. If you Piltoverian champions match up, they'll just send the goons to take you to the Institute and do whatever with you. For the most part, this syndicate actually is some loony group that wants anarchy and chaos and all that, but there's probably a small branch in there which is working for the Institute. That's the real problem."

"Wow," Janna said, more amazed at his deduction than worried at the danger it presented. "That still leaves the question. Where _are _we going to go?"

He scanned his mind for an idea, any idea, as they rounded a street corner, his feet going on autopilot as he trusted Janna to direct them away from any signs of human movement. Eventually his thoughts landed on one of the only champions located in Piltover. "Corki." If travel by land wasn't going to cut it, why not take to the air?

"He's back in Piltover?" Janna wondered.

"He should be. Based on my knowledge of champion whereabouts since the explosion, Corki hasn't remained at the Institute. Caitlyn, Vi, Jayce, Heimer… they're all still there, doing their own investigation into the matter, no doubt. Thank god that yordle's got some common sense," he explained.

"Hmm… so he's probably crashing at the hextech garage where Heimerdinger works on his new inventions. It's about a mile away from here," Janna estimated.

"I've had worse morning drills," the grandmaster deadpanned. "There should be a small aircraft that he can pilot to bring us back to the Institute. The kid doesn't just fly yordle technology - he's pretty damn good when it comes to anything in the air."

"And what about Zed?" she asked, making him stop for a second.

Jax had no fear that Zed was going to make it out of there. He wasn't the leader of an order of ninjas for nothing. Still, the odds didn't look good for him there, but at least he had his shurikens on him constantly and at least had weapons to fight with, unlike Jax, who was almost literally caught with his pants down. And even if he were to get out, how was he going to meet back up with them when they went back to the Institute?

"He'll be alright," he said, only half-believing in his words. "There's no way we could meet up with him safely, but he'll find a way. If worse comes to worse, I'm sure he's smart enough to understand that eventually we'll just be back at the Institute." That answer seemed to allay Janna's fears, and they continued along.

The gunshots seemed to have dissipated, Jax realized, as they had created a fairly large amount of distance between them and their pursuers. The spirit of the wind allowing them to run faster than the average person, as well as being champions in peak physical condition, surely made it easy for them. He decided they could turn down the pace and started walking, giving him a chance to breathe.

A lone figure manifested on the empty street on which they were traversing. Jax wasn't sure why he didn't see him coming, but he was still trying to fully comprehend his appearance when the newcomer aimed a savage blow at him with a mace which he barely dodged by jumping to the side. The weapon crashed into the ground with such force that there were slight cracks in the concrete.

"Not one to waste words, are you?" Jax shot at him, words dripping with sarcasm. He took a moment to size up the assailant. All clad in black, glossy armor, with a helmet obscuring his face. Gauntlets covered his hands, spikes layered on the knuckles, and in its right hand was that mace, a five-foot device that was sure to break the bones of anything it came in contact with. It was an uncanny imitation of Mordekaiser, even down to the mace, but there were no glowing eyes behind that ominous headwear. A true animated suit of armor.

The figure made no reply as it quickly turned around, extricating its weapon from the ground and swung once again with the mace, a horizontal swipe which Jax backed away from in time. He could dodge these attacks for days, but without anything somewhat resembling a weapon in his hands, there was no way he could retaliate. And there was no way he was taking his bare hands in a fistfight against someone with such a large weapon.

"Jax, over here!" Janna called from the other side of the figure. They were situated near the construction site for some new building, and there were a couple of metal fixtures lying around. Rushing towards the side of the road, he scrambled to pick up one of the bars while the figure slowly walked in their direction. It was quite heavier than the weight of his favorite lamp post, and it would reduce his agility, something he would need to deal with an opponent much stronger than him. But it would work.

The figure once again slammed down its mace into Jax's path, and the grandmaster tested out the strength of his newfound weapon by attempting a block. Almost immediately he could feel the tautness of his extended arm crumple and he had to use the momentum of the force pushing him back to spin once more out of harm's way. The metal clearly wasn't of a toughness nearly as strong as the mace.

It was still all good and well with Jax. If he could find an opening in the armor, and could continue to evade the devastating strikes, he'd come out the victor. Weaving around the sluggish motions of his larger opponent, Jax swung the metal at the armor, colliding with his opponent but making no visible progress due to the resilience of the armor. Even with a shield from Janna here and there to augment his attacks, the figure did not seem to suffer much discomfort. Once more did the mace come boring through towards him, and once more did Jax take a step back to avoid it. But his aggressor had learned, and instead of completing the strike, he had anticipated the dodge and in mid-swing completely changed momentum and took another step forward, catching the unsuspecting grandmaster off guard. The mace nicked the edge of his robes, but he felt a taste of what a full impact would be as he staggered back, reeling from the cut the spikes of the mace gave him.

Wary of future baited attacks from the armored figure, he moved more cautiously around his opponent, but continued attacks once more failed to break the hard exterior. Reaching into his reserves, still low due to the adrenaline from earlier starting to fall, he empowered the slab of metal and gave a swift thwack to the torso, intending to strike in an area where two of the plates met. The figure recoiled and Jax heard its first sound, a faint grunt. This was starting to work. But he wasn't sure how much longer he could do things like that.

Undaunted from the previous discomfort, the armored figure continued its assault. But Jax was getting a feel for the tempo and speed of its attacks, and though it tried feints, crosses, and double-feints, it wasn't getting anywhere with Jax, who took some more out of it with empowered strikes every now and then. Still, the figure wasn't tiring any time soon, while Jax could feel his movements getting a bit sluggish.

One particular blow caught Jax off guard as he was being a bit careless. Instead of being able to simply dodge the attack, he realized he would have to resort to his Counter Strike technique to avoid taking the full force of the blow. Fortunately, the defensive stance paid off, as the mace somehow deflected off his spinning metal bar as the figure realized what was happening and attempted to back off. But Jax took to the air and leapt atop his adversary, releasing the stun and continuing to batter him with blow after blow. His counterpart couldn't keep up with the relentless assault and staggered backwards, threatening to lose balance.

Jax sensed the pivotal turn of their match and doubled his efforts, aiming a diagonal blow in an attempt to contrast the angle with the unsteady footwork of the figure. The strike would probably knock it off its feet if executed properly, and his opponent only barely managed to keep itself upright. It seemed to be exhausted, standing there without moving or attacking, but its hunched figure and slow shaking, a sign of breathing deeply, indicated that it was probably at its limits.

Intending to vanquish his foe once and for all, Jax leapt in the air once more, empowering the metal bar in his hands to secure the crushing blow. But what Jax didn't expect was for the figure to lash out in a brutal parry that completely reversed Jax's trajectory, sending him flying across the street.

Getting up from the ground with some difficulty, Jax saw, to his horror, his attacker growing in size. Dark energy radiated around it, and its mace emitted a purple glowing light as the figure extended to a size double its previous form, which was already quite massive.

And it was fast. With a speed which shouldn't have been possible for a stature so gigantic and armor that heavy, it charged at Jax, who was still recovering from the disbelief of it growing in size. He didn't have the reflexes to dodge or roll out of the way in time, merely staring at the projectile about to run him over. There wasn't any life flashing before his eyes or anything. Just pure confusion.

And then it was stopped in its tracks, a powerful gust of wind knocking it up in the air and causing it to lose its balance. Jax took the time to regain his footing, turning to face his savior. "Have I ever told you you're incredible?"

She held back a giggle. "A few times, maybe."

The figure was stirring. Not wanting to throw away his advantage once again, Jax ran towards it and continued his empowered attacks. However, he could feel them getting less effective. Whether it was the increased defense of his adversary, his own exhaustion, or a combination of the two, it wasn't showing great results. It got to its feet without much difficulty and struck once more at Jax, who leapt into the air atop its mace in mid-swing, pushing down with all his might. For the first time, the armored figure looked out of its element as the mace fell from its grip. With only a small reserve of strength left, Jax took a baseball swing at the now defenseless suit of armor, hoping to shatter that helmet and end the fight once and for all.

But as the swing was about to make its impact, all he could feel was burning. His face seemed to come alight, and although he didn't see flames, the complete sensation of an inferno engulfed his senses. It was like being at the bar once more, although this time there was no explosion and no table to ride. Just pure agony.

Where was it coming from? Upon further inspection, Jax realized a hand was gripping his face. Perhaps crushing was a more aptly named word, as his face was beginning to contract from every side as the hand of death attempted to squeeze the life out of him. He couldn't move a single muscle, arms and legs paralyzed as if there were hundreds of invisible hands also gripping him, holding him in place. And the flames kept coming.

So it was nothing short of a miracle when a flurry of cold air filled his senses, driving the fiery touch of the figure's hand away and reinvigorating Jax's immobilized limbs. Sucking in a gulp of clean air, he picked up the metal bar which he had dropped during the attempted suffocation. It seemed heavier than usual, and his grip took a lot of effort out of him. Summoning as much effort as he could, he hobbled towards his enemy, ready to do battle once more, however briefly he could hold on.

"Stay with me," Janna pleaded. Her words came through the particles of the air itself, echoing through his mind. "Don't falter."

The encouragement gave him just enough ability to unleash his last resort. His grandmaster's might. He'd only have to resort to it when every other option failed him, else it remained dormant in his body, only signalling to break the surface when it was needed. The energy was coming back to him, the blood vessels beating throughout his body. With his fortitude rejuvenated, Jax ran at his opponent once more.

The strikes were, at last, too quick to handle. And they weren't getting any slower - in fact, as Jax got into the groove of his last resolve, he felt the blows coming down upon his enemy quicker and quicker. Soon there was nothing else to sense except the whoosh of the air as the metal rained down again and again. He could sense the figure make a run for it. That was his final mistake, as Jax took to the air and leapt onto its head, a heel driving its face into the ground.

He knew it wasn't going to get up, but neither was he. Slumped against the body of his fallen opponent, Jax closed his eyes and sighed in exhaustion.

A hand came upon his shoulder. "My hero," Janna spoke softly. "You did great. But something's not right… I wonder who this person is, why they attacked us. So many questions to answer."

A muffled groan beneath the hood was the only response she would get.

"Good show, good show!" a raspy voice cackled from the other side of the street. Instinctively Janna cast a gust of wind at its direction, finding nothing else in the streets. She thought they were alone. But that voice didn't make its appearance without being followed by…

"I do love a good slaughter," sneered a man dressed in red. From the jester hat to the medieval garb, topped off with two sharp shivs in his hands, Janna knew who had decided to join them in their late-night/early-morning escapade.

"Shaco?" she asked, half in curiosity, half in fright. Who knew what the Demon Jester was up to when he wasn't spotted on the Fields of Justice, which was almost never? "What are you…"

"Oh, pay me no mind," the trickster assured her, which wasn't very comforting at all. "When there's insanity, you know I'll be there waiting to join in on the festivities. And here I was expecting just your regular angry riot and buildings burning. You could imagine my surprise when I found two League champions in the midst of it all! Not to mention… I see you've met _him._"

Janna arched an eyebrow. "Do you know what this thing is?"

Shaco's smile never left his face. "He is who they call the Dreadnaught. Quite a wonderful creature of pain and destruction! A bit on the clumsy side, though, if you ask me. I was impressed you took him down, to be quite honest. In all my times watching him fight his victims, I haven't see him lose yet. Hardly any make it to the suffocation."

The sorceress gulped. "His victims? Is he part of the Delta Syndicate?"

He considered her question for a second. "Oh, I wouldn't say he's one of them. I've seen him around them, and he goes along with their thing, but I feel he's a completely different beast. Even I don't know where he came from." If it was possible for his smile to widen even further, it did. "And by the way, I wouldn't sit too close to him for so long. He'll get up in a bit."

Janna's eyes widened. "What?"

"Well, would you look at the time? It's sunrise, and I suspect you've been up all night, just like me. I think I'll be off. Toodaloo!"

And in a red puff of smoke, he vanished.

* * *

The sound of the world falling apart was the greatest wake-up call.

Jax jerked awake after realizing the constant shaking of the ground was not normal and attempted to stand up. That didn't work, as he was bound by… something. He groped around for his weapon at the time. What was it? Oh yes, that metal bar. His hands only met the leather of the seats next to him.

Restrained and defenseless. Jax quickly sized up what little of his environment he could manage. Captured by brigands? Likely. Void portal abduction? Not completely out of the question.

The last thing on his mind was waking in his seat on a small plane. To his right, he saw Janna slumped over in the seat next to him, a blanket covering her. She looked exhausted, but slept with a peaceful smile on her face.

Then it hit him. "Corki!" he shouted hoarsely.

The intercom on the plane blared. "At your service, partner. Glad to see you're up and running."

"What in blazes is going on?" he demanded.

"All credit's on your girl back there," the bombardier informed him. "Was up early at the cock's crow when she comes knocking on the garage door. Y'all were dog tired, she had to hold you up cause you were out snoozing like a baby. Told me to take you to the Institute cause some delta gamma goons or whatnot were after you. Woman's something else, gotta admit. Gave me the whole rundown on your business and any moment looked like she was gonna keel over."

_Damn, I'm a lucky guy, _Jax thought to himself. _I might try cards again with Fate some time._

"Well, thanks for obliging, pal," Jax replied. "I can give you a more complete explanation if you want. It's a lot to consider, but I'm pretty sure the situation calls for all these drastic measures."

"Not a problem, bud. I'll pass on the novel, though. When we get to the Institute I'll see for myself. And speaking of seeing stuff, would you take a gander on your left!"

Jax peered out the window to see the Piltover skyline below them, but something was definitely out of the ordinary. On the tops of the four highest buildings were gigantic posters held up by hundreds of people, each poster displaying one word in bold pink text. He could piece out the sentence created:

VI STANDS FOR VICTIM

A moment of recollection allowed Jax to call to mind some of the figures he had examined when he last looked at the win rate trends of recent days. Vi didn't stand out too much, but she did become a popular pick amidst the highest ranking summoners who participated in the most serious of matches which dealt with international relations. _Maybe something happened to her while I wasn't aware?_

"Corki, you know anything about this?" he asked of his pilot.

"Lost like an armordillo in the Frejlord," the yordle replied, equally perplexed. "Last I heard of the Enforcer, there wasn't nothing near alpha level danger involving her. And that wasn't but two days ago. If things happened, they be moving quickly."

Jax didn't like the sound of that. Unforeseen circumstances were expected, but as of recently, he had nearly everything documented and was nearby to figure something out whenever an attack occurred. But to prevent one attack he had missed another, and although he felt some fulfillment in saving the sleeping wind mage beside him, alongside came a trickling of guilt knowing it cost him the well-being of another champion.

Leaving Irelia at the Institute was a good plan though, as Jax knew the Ionian was fully capable of acting on his behalf, although she lacked the information and contacts he possessed. Perhaps she had found a lead and was working towards the investigation in his stead. Unfortunately she would have to be working alone, as Twisted Fate wasn't so keen on entering another confrontation with the Institute's supernatural creatures. Yet even if their private inquiries into the matter turned up fruitless, you didn't just pick a fight with the law enforcement duo of Piltover and expect to come out under little scrutiny. Besides the loyal and protective fanbase from their citizens, the champions of Piltover had access to the most advanced technological weaponry and equipment necessary to conduct investigations into the matter, or if worse came to worse, simply overpower anyone that got in the way.

He was going to have to get back to planning. "Corki, what's the time right now?"

"Approaching 1000 hours. If we keep this good tailwind heading south southwest we'll be touching down at the Institute airfield in a couple of hours."

Jax thanked him and returned to his musings. He'd have to get to the Sheriff as soon as possible to get the whole scope on the situation. The ominous warning the Dreamweaver gave him after they defeated it - or so they thought - rang in his head once more. This is the beginning. If it had come around for another assault on the Institute, Jax would need another seven or so champions to fight it on equal footing. At least.

It was a bunch of grey areas to deal with and the uncertainty didn't help quell his nerves, but he figured there wasn't more he could plan ahead in his current situation and he'd just have to wait before he was back in the Institute proper. For now, he turned his attention to the now stirring form of Janna next to him as she let out a soft yawn and stretched in her seat. She turned to him before smiling weakly. "Morning."

"Glad to see you up," he greeted as he filled her in on the new predicament involving Vi.

"I hope she's alright," Janna said worriedly. "I've been around both of them when one gets sick or hurt, and it's not fun. When Vi gets angry she won't stop muttering to herself or lashing out at people, but I think Caitlyn is the scarier one when she loses her temper. She doesn't even talk to you or look at you, but she just acts so deliberately that I'm scared to come near her in case she actually does blow up in my face."

"I think I'd take my chances with Vi over the Sheriff," Jax agreed. He beat the pink-haired woman one-on-one in plenty of scuffles on the rift, but Caitlyn, when he wasn't able to immediately jump on her, kept raining down shots from her sniper rifle from way across the field, and although Jax was one of the more nimble fighters, the precision of a woman who started her career at fourteen ensured she would rarely, if ever, miss her mark.

"Do you think the Institute is specifically targeting Piltover?" Janna asked of Jax. "The last few incidents didn't seem to have a pattern to them, but this is the first time they've attacked two champions in a row from the same region."

"It's too early to say," Jax shrugged. "If a third champion was singled out, I'd definitely consider it, but at this point it's not too far-fetched to say that Vi and yourself just both happen to be strong, popular champions as of recent."

"Don't you ever feel that you'd be a target yourself?"

The question gave him pause for a second. And as he continued to wrap his head around the possibility for more than a second, he'd come to the unsatisfactory conclusion that he had no idea what the Institute thought about him.

"I suppose you could say they've done that before. Back then, it definitely didn't seem like a malicious thing to do, trying to make me fight under special limitations so I didn't absolutely destroy any opponent I faced. I just refused to be the lapdog of the Institute and made sure that if anyone was going to hold me back, I'd do it myself," Jax related.

"This was years ago, when the Institute wasn't nearly as powerful as it was now, and us champions weren't seen as icons like we are today," he continued. "As of late, I haven't gotten as much attention as the good old days. A lot of people seem to prefer Irelia to me. It's pretty peculiar, to be honest. I don't mean to brag, but I've had a better track record throughout the years than her and she's only recently popped back up into favor. I suppose if it sets me under the radar for longer, it's better for my safety."

"I remember she got a lot of attention from the Institute back then as well," Janna reminisced.

"She did," Jax agreed, "but this was still the time when the Institute didn't have malicious plans. They were a lot more subtle about it in those years, and I actually hadn't noticed any sudden drop in her ability because it was a gradual process. What you could tell was that less summoners wanted to choose her as their champion, for whatever reason, but after a few months her popularity jumped back up again. At the surface level, you might say she was having some ups and downs with her success, but here's the thing with Ionians: they perform very consistently, day in and day out. It's all about keeping that balance. When you talk about change for a Noxian champion, for instance, it's almost expected for them, because they're so volatile. Now take that same change and apply it to the Ionian champion, and all of a sudden it's a big deal, because they're seen as consistent all the time.

"So I'd like to say I've been lying low for a while, but with everything I've experienced, I don't think there really is one place where I'd be safe it if my investigation goes along as smoothly as I'm intending it to be. And these monsters that seem to be pulled by their leash don't discriminate. The Institute staff are at least human and you might be able to understand their ambition. Their beasts are a whole different case," the grandmaster concluded.

"I didn't expect such a detailed perspective from you, Jax," Janna commented. "I know it's a very serious matter, but I can't help but be fascinated by the way you look at things."

He turned back to the window, now passing over the peaks of the Ironspike Mountains which still shone white as the last bits of winter snow fell upon their caps. "It's something you learn to do quickly when fighting's been your profession. Good soldiers have reflexes to be able to take on an enemy one against one. Great soldiers have the intellect to take on many enemies against one. The real veterans and war heroes don't have to waste the minds on reacting to what their opponents throw out at them. They're strategic masters. Skip the first part about acting, and start thinking about how you defeat people. It comes to the point where you see the battle not as 'How do I beat them?' and instead 'How do I win?'"

It was an evolutionary process for Jax. His mind had started out purely instinctively, relying on his raw talent to win him matches when he first joined the League. What made things actually easy for him starting out was that those tactics would work because his skill was just miles ahead of everyone else's. And that's when the lamppost came in, which was a poor substitute over the sword he was forced to destroy which cut through the defenses of even the hardiest champions on the rift. People could withstand his assaults. Others realized his capabilities and found ways to counteract him. He soon realized he wouldn't be able to continue his strategy if he wanted to win with an inferior weapon, so Jax took the time to watch. Between matches he would spectate others and learn every champion's capabilities in order to gain knowledge. In such a way Jax once again rose nearly to the top of most successful champions, but he wasn't able to hold his lead as more and more champions began pouring in, with each on par, if not stronger, than his own strength.

The soldier in him regretted that his peak performance was probably not something he could feasibly improve, but the tactician in him relished the ability to act flawlessly and succeed by knowing the enemy. It's the soldier who puts in the grunt work, and gets the satisfaction of overpowering an enemy. But it's the tactician who fully appreciates a victory when you understand every facet of not only your work, but your opponent's.

And it was the strategist in him who constantly worried about where his enemies would strike next. He'd been doing the best he could to understand the Institute like he understood adversaries on the battlefield, but one organization is not one person, and it was a lot more complex of a game than he first realized.

The intercom crackled back to life, interrupting his internal monologue. "We'll be landing onto the Institute airstrip in a couple of minutes. Already got clearance to land and you'll be back on your ground legs in a bit," Corki announced.

"I hardly see the difference," Janna quipped beside him.

"Aren't you the privileged one, Your Highness?" mocked Jax.

For a group that allegedly wanted to sabotage their champions, the Institute's air traffic control ushered them in without much hassle. Parking the mini-plane in one of the many hangars, Jax thanked Corki for the favor while he and Janna made their way to the Institute's main halls to find out the real news about the Piltover Enforcer.

"Actually, it'd be a good idea to meet up with Fate first," Jax said as he turned towards the living quarters of the independently affiliated. Upon reaching the gypsy's door, he was about to knock when the voice of the man they were looking for turned up behind them.

"Looking for me?"

Jax turned to confront him. "Glad you're here. Makes it less of a hassle trying to hunt you down."

"Good to see you too," Fate responded as he turned his gaze onto Janna. "It's good to see you're safe, ma'am. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

"Enough with the honorifics, Fate," Jax cut in as Janna stifled a laugh at his irritation. "You see Irelia lately?"

"Aren't you popular with the ladies?" Fate joked. "Unfortunately, she left on the same day you and Zed took the train to Piltover. Something about going off to Mount Targon, I'm afraid I don't recall specifics." Fate cocked his head to one side. "Where is the Master of Shadows? Shouldn't he be with you?"

Jax cringed at the thought of relaying the story to others. Deciding not to give the gypsy the full details, he sugarcoated it. "We… parted ways a bit through our stay. He'll get back to us later."

Fate had a look of suspicion on his face, but didn't choose to further pursue the topic. "I see. Well, I suppose you're here about the Enforcer. I just came back myself from seeing what I could find out. Didn't get to see her, since the Sheriff was only letting her friends from Piltover come into the room, but some rumors have been going around that she's got some nasty burn marks on her face."

It was definitely a different sort of attack from the past few times, Jax mused, but considering the oddity of the enemies he encountered so far, he didn't expect them all to share similar fighting characteristics. "Piltover's gone nuts about this accident," he remarked.

"Oh yeah. That's the strange part about this." Fate jumped at the opportunity to share his own thoughts. "The thing about this that makes it all different was that this 'accident' was done completely in public. Vi and the Sheriff had this press conference thing where they were talking about the headway they made into the demolition case when all of a sudden the podium just exploded in the Enforcer's face. Whether it was faulty equipment or an actual sabotage, no one knows, but of course Piltover's absolutely livid at the whole incident."

"Oh my," Janna put in. "Is she okay though?"

Fate gave a look which came between I guess she's alright and I've seen worse. "Like I said, I never got to see the damage for myself, but the Starchild says she'll make a full recovery, though it'll take a while."

"The Institute would never want to make their damage permanent," Jax said bitterly. "Well, I might as well take a look for myself. I'll be off, Fate, but when I come for you next time, you better not chicken out," he warned as he made to leave for the medical wing.

"No promises about that, partner," Fate called out.

The way to the medical wing wasn't a short walk, but given the recent occurrences and the time of day, it was an adventure all the same. Hundreds of summoners filled the bustling halls as they chatted excitedly about the Enforcer's accident, and Institute staff were sent to the medical wing to ensure that only authorized people could enter. At least, that's what they said they were doing. Jax didn't have a doubt in his mind that they were sent to ensure no one would get a further understanding of the extent of Vi's injuries.

Fortunately, they were lenient enough to allow a specific few champions: upon seeing Janna, the two guards stationed at the entrance looked at each other for confirmation, then ushered her forward. Jax was able to come along thanks to some negotiation from the wind mage, and they were in.

"Hey, wait up for me!" a voice behind them frantically called out.

Jax turned to discern the identity of the voice and raised his head slightly in approval. The Prodigal Explorer ran down the halls, vest flapping in the air and his trademark gauntlet strapped to his wrist. Not stopping even for the Institute's guards, he continued his sprint as he dashed past the sentries with a look of intent on his face. For some reason, they didn't try to stop him, though he was a champion of Piltover, and he'd probably get cleared to pass anyways. How he managed to keep his goggles atop his forehead at that speed, Jax would never understand.

Ezreal finally slowed to a halt, taking a second to catch his breath. "Mind if I join you?" he asked good-naturedly.

"Pleasure's mine," Jax accepted as Janna responded with a similar greeting. "Sure hope Vi's alright."

"Yeah, it sounds serious," the youth replied. "She's a tough cookie though. Even if things were sour, she wouldn't want to cause grief on our behalf. I'm more worried about Cait, to be honest. Sheriff's like a mother to her and she gets all fussy with Vi or me whenever we even think about doing reckless stuff."

They had reached the door of Vi's room, and Ezreal gave the go-ahead to Jax, who knocked politely. A short pause followed, before the door opened a crack and Jax could see the emerald eyes of the Sheriff scrutinizing the newcomers. Upon realizing they were her fellow champions, she swung the door open wider, albeit barely enough to fit them. "Come in."

Within the room lay a single hospital bed, where the Enforcer lay with one whole side covered in bandages, including her face. Vi appeared to be sleeping, her chest making small movements up and down to indicate she was breathing, but appeared to have some troubles doing so. A chair lay next to the bedside, where Caitlyn was presumably spending most of her time waiting anxiously.

"Thank you for putting in the time to visit," the Sheriff said graciously. "I think now she's got some time to relax, cause last night I don't think she slept very well." Caitlyn rubbed her eyes wearily, indicating she didn't have much of a good night's sleep either.

"I've heard people talk about how she's doing, but it'd be nice to hear it from you, Sheriff," Jax put in.

"She's… had worse," Caitlyn told them. "I've seen her barely walk away from some encounters with Jinx and even some lesser criminal cases, but this just feels so different. We definitely weren't expecting to be attacked here at the Institute compared to on the case, and the injuries looked severe at first, although Soraka told me they're better than they look. That whole side of her is burnt," the Sheriff indicated, pointing at the bandaged half of Vi.

"I'll pass on the imagery," Ezreal said, shifting uneasily from one foot to another.

"I wouldn't want to impose on you," Caitlyn agreed.

"Do you have any idea of what caused this?" Janna asked.

Caitlyn shook her head. "I haven't gotten to do any investigating on the matter, for obvious reasons. It wasn't until a few hours ago that the Starchild said she'd end up alright in the end, but I'm choosing to stay with her until the evening at best. I have to look out for her," she added, her voice full of worry.

"There wasn't much evidence we could gather on the scene," Caitlyn continued. "The remains of the podium aren't very interesting to look at, and all we have are these photographs of the scene after the explosion happened," she said, pointing at a few laminated pictures on a desk.

Ezreal picked a few up, examining them while Jax peered over his shoulder. He didn't see anything useful to be found in those photos either. All they showed were various angles of the charred stage floor, with burn marks making strange zigzags across it.

The explorer was rotating the pictures, apparently in deep thought. Suddenly, he snapped his fingers in realization, catching the attention of everyone in the room. "It makes sense now!"

"What does?" Janna inquired.

"I was wondering why these burn marks seemed so familiar… it's because they form a symbol. The resemblance is so uncanny there's no way this is a coincidence," he explained excitedly.

The Sheriff made her way over to look at the photographs, trying to perceive what Ezreal saw in them. "What am I supposed to be looking at?"

"Right here," Ezreal pointed, tracing an oval outline. "It's the shape of a scarab!"

Jax strained his eyes at the photo, trying to form the picture in his head. He could see it now - the shell, appendages, even wings starting to show in the burn marks. "So what does it mean?"

"I've seen it before, on the markings of some tombs I've uncovered on some explorations," Ezreal declared. "It's the Shuriman symbol of death."

* * *

**A/N: **I remember when I finished the fight scene I was at 3.5k words and I was at a loss for how to continue. Now it passed 7k and I'm not sure what's going on. I do know I was writing the Jax monologue at 1:30 in the morning and had no idea what I was writing. That was definitely memorable.

This ended up going towards an "Ezreal and Shurima" vibe which is a bit stereotypical, but it seemed like a good direction to take this story.

As for anonymous reviews that I wasn't able to respond to:

\- Gea5s: I can't quite answer your Azir question, considering that it'll be answered in the next Jax chapter, but you will get to see Shurima!

\- A Reader: Glad to see people like the backstories. I love Diana's lore as well, so I just had to write about that. I guess that inspired the Jax monologue in this chapter, which after reviewing, doesn't seem too bad. Thanks for the encouragement!

Jax and Irelia are probably meeting up next chapter to start the next arc, and I probably want to do away with Sona and Janna cause they got more screentime than I intended lol. Ezreal's going to join them, but I'm going to need to find some more people to accompany them...


	14. The Dunes

Faces really stuck out to Irelia.

Incidentally, her homeland was one of the places where many people chose to hide their appearances behind masks. It wasn't out of shyness or fear, rather out of necessity for secrecy and objectiveness. The individuals of the Kinkou Order wouldn't have been nearly as formidable if you gave a face to each of them. Masks wouldn't make you stronger, but they did make you unified. Someone could pick out a single ninja by their face if they had shown it. No one could say the same for the person behind a mask which infused the organization's history and brotherhood into the bearer. Even then, she had a close relationship with many of these mask wearers, and she knew the truth of the men and women behind those masks.

The many-eyed hood of Master Yi was meant to strike fear in his opponents. It conveyed the message that the Wuju master would be able to read your every move, that you couldn't evade him. Yet under that, she knew that his eyes were a somber grey, orbs which dulled with age and irises which had darkened as they witnessed the horror of Noxians systematically slaughtering his countrymen.

The Eye of Twilight, despite his name, kept his entire face masked, while the slits in the mask where his eyes should have went were replaced by a couple of opaque lenses, so gazing into Shen's eyes would only result in a pair of eerie yellow lights returning your attention. It was a sign of enforced equilibrium, a countenance of complete composure. But Irelia had seen what lay beneath the surface, once during the Ionian invasion, where he had stopped to splash water over his face in a time of brief respite, the only time the Kinkou had left his guard down. His true eyes, uncharacteristically blue for an Ionian, radiated an intensity that no one would likely match.

On the other hand, Akali would only let you see her eyes. Those were the last things violators of the balance would notice: dark obsidian staring them down, penetrating to their very spirits before her kamas put an end to their bodies. Everything about her strength seemed to come from that gaze which demanded that you maintain eye contact with her throughout your conversation or else a blade would end up at the back of your neck. It was intimidation at its finest, although Irelia never felt that with her. Instead, she always pictured that coy smile behind the mask and remembered the times when they were younger and she would pester Irelia about which of the budding swordsmen at the school fancied her attention. It was the smirk of a romantic at heart. The smirk of the Fist of Shadow.

So Irelia always felt it strange that she never found out what lay underneath the hood of the Grandmaster at Arms. She never really knew what he was looking at, how he was stressing the tone of his voice, or how he felt. You could sense their emotions through their eyes like peering into a crystal ball. But Jax had remained a mystery to her, and she was determined to look upon the face of this man whom she had come to respect and admire so much recently.

He never seemed to be a leader in the way Prince Jarvan was, with his motivating speeches, or how Grand General Jericho Swain was, with his distinguished record of service. Both of those men existed as living symbols of greater ideas, of justice and strength. But Jax was an anomaly. When she followed him, it was because he acted in a way that showed visible progression. Jax showed concrete results, just like his records on the Fields of Justice indicated. Walking in his footsteps seemed to guarantee success, to secure victory.

Winning wasn't everything for Irelia, but she absolutely hated to lose. Losing a match on the rift would leave a bitter aftertaste in the tea she would drink half an hour later. Losing a loved one would leave tear stains on her blankets for years.

Losing a country would leave nothing but the dust from whence they came as the winds of fate swept away the foundations of her homeland. And that wound would last for an eternity.

It was a lot to mull over in her head on the way back from Mount Targon, but upon the news of another attack on her fellow champion, Irelia knew there was bound to be another confrontation soon. She was hoping Jax would have returned to the Institute by the time she arrived, although she had no idea as to the length of his stay in Piltover. The previous journey's success boosted her confidence, however, and she would feel less hesitant on tackling the problems without Jax's information to lean on.

The Ionian and Sona, after parting ways with the two yordles, made their way through the sea of summoners wandering around the open-air plaza which marked the center of the Institute of War, heading towards the medical wing hoping to get some information on the causes of Vi's injuries. She knew that Piltover catching ear of the 'accident' couldn't be good for their investigation or the Institute's reputation, so acting decisively would be of utmost importance.

Upon reaching the entrance, however, she found that the Enforcer had a few previous visitors. The Prodigal Explorer walked out of the wing's revolving doors, followed by a stunning blond-haired woman floating on the air. Standing between them was none other than Jax himself.

Not entirely sure what motivated her, she cried out his name happily before running towards him and throwing her arms around him. The grandmaster seemed taken off guard, if only for a moment, before returning the favor. She could sense the awkwardness in his touch, although it was comforting all the same.

"That's a reaction I wouldn't have expected," Jax snarkily commented before Irelia drew back, slightly blushing.

"It's just," Irelia stammered, "that I'm happy to see you're safe. I'm just worn out from the journey I had." Irelia looked at the company in front of her, realizing there was a missing piece. Someone was missing. "Didn't you have Zed with you?"

Jax sighed, indicating that he had probably dealt with the matter before. "I'll give you the whole story in private. Right now, it's probably best that Ezreal here explains our whole predicament. Over lunch," he added as he took a look at the clock tower. "We're not going to get anything productive done over an empty stomach." Nods followed from all around the group as the explorer led the way to the Institute's cafeteria.

Surprisingly, the culinary services the Institute provided had become lauded as one of the most diverse selections around all of Valoran. Its central location on the continent made it a prime melting pot for various cultures to meet and exchange pieces of information, many of which included the native dishes and recipes of the varying city-states. In truth, the cafeteria less resembled the stereotypical appearance that one may have remembered from their days in secondary school and took more of a restaurant vibe. Dishes were neatly categorized by region, and renowned chefs from all over the continent organized teams of servers to ensure that each dish was crafted to the accuracy of its native origins.

Irelia had selected a warm Ionian broth filled with noodles and vegetables, topped with a combination of the island's spices. The steam from the soup filled her nostrils with its delectable smell as she closed her eyes in satisfaction, taking in the scent.

Jax had a sandwich.

The two were sitting at the far end of a table, comparing notes as they caught up. Ezreal was situated in the middle next to Jax, and the two supports occupying the other end. From his position, the spelunker was able to relate his findings to the newcomers after Irelia and Jax had finished their discussion.

"Irelia, Sona, looks like I'll have to fill you two in," Ezreal started. "The explosion at the press conference yesterday left burn marks which created a scarab symbol." Taking the pictures from the medical wing, he placed them on the table for the two women to see. "This particular one, with the dotted markings on the scarab's wings, signifies death in Shuriman society. I think you can make the connection here."

"The attacker is some Shuriman terrorist, then?" Irelia asked, doubtful herself about the conclusion she reached.

"If you couple this with our experiences with these otherworldly creatures we've been fighting, there's something deeper under those sands," Jax corrected. "We're already operating under the assumption that it's an undercover job by the Institute, but there's a base in Shurima just like there was one in Piltover."

She went back to her memories of the Valoran Council meetings held after the miraculous rebirth of the Shuriman Empire. The political landscape of the desert civilization was volatile at best, and she remembered the efforts made by Noxian High Command and the Lightshield cabinet to forge alliances with the recently ascended emperor, Azir. Beforehand, the desert was home only to a few permanent villages, with the majority of the population concentrated in nomadic groups who settled in a wide array around a certain focal point where the Capital once stood. Now with the empire's rebirth, more and more of the nomadic tribes had immigrated into the empire in attempts to reap the rewards of the beginning of the new dynasty. Such an opportunistic environment would make it easy pickings for agents of the Institute to slip in and exercise influence within the budding political factions which had emerged.

"If anyone's unfamiliar with the power struggle in Shurima currently," Ezreal was saying, "I'll give you the short rundown of things. There are those who support Azir, the Order of the Sun Disc, who make up a majority of the population. On the other hand were those who had pledged allegiance to the last ascended being, Xerath. That would be the Legion of Lightning, more of a fanatical cult than a true political party. And there are equal motivations for one group to completely dominate the other to ensure the rise of their champion in Shuriman circles."

Irelia nodded. It was coming back to her now. "Either of those two champions could be the target of the Institute, then." But it was a bit tricker now. She had to be careful she didn't get caught up in the politics of this plot, as Azir and Xerath were enemies. To come to the aid of one might give off the wrong image to another. "We're not taking sides on this."

"Not at all," Jax agreed. "That's why we'll probably be splitting into two groups again when we head for Shurima. I'll be heading one group to the Capital to meet with the emperor. Ezreal will take the other one to find the Magus Ascendant, wherever he is in the desert. You know it better than me, Ez." Jax looked at the numbers at their table before backing up in his chair, reconsidering. "We have an odd number of people here, so the group won't be evenly split. Irelia will go with me, and you can take these two lovely ladies with you, Ezreal."

The explorer blushed at the prospect of having two of the more attractive women in the League accompany him into the desert, but he didn't look troubled at all. Janna seemed more than happy to accept the proposal. "I've always wanted to go on one of your adventures, Ez." Sona nodded in agreement.

"But then you guys will only have two in your group," Ezreal pointed out. "You sure you're going to be -"

The impact of a spherical object making contact with the table interrupted his statement. As they looked off to the side, they saw the spiky shell of an armordillo uncurl from its ball, revealing two dark orange eyes silently gazing at them. Rammus leapt onto the table as Irelia only barely managed to pull her soup away from his feet.

"Er, it's good to see you, Rammus?" Ezreal greeted the creature halfheartedly.

"OK," came the expected reply. The armordillo pointed to the pictures laid out on the desk.

"You've seen these before?" the explorer asked.

"Yeah."

Whether it was the fact that Rammus had a vocabulary of less than ten words or a stroke of exceedingly good fortune, Irelia believed Ezreal was actually making progress with his interrogation. "Hmm… call me crazy, but this just might work! Do you want to go along with us, Rammus?"

"Alright." Irelia had an idea of where this was going, and she was beginning to object, but Ezreal was already continuing.

"Great! You'll be joining Jax and Irelia on their trek to the Capital," he informed the armordillo.

"Mm." Irelia buried her face in her hands.

* * *

The only consolation, she supposed, was that the armordillo's presence wasn't intruding at all. He rarely talked unless spoken to first, and even then, he never had much to say. So the only person she would have for conversation was Jax, and she was completely okay with that.

Once more taking the southbound train, this time to a station called Al'Meyn in the northern Shuriman desert, Irelia sat across from Jax, who was fiddling with another lamppost he had pulled from his room. She had forgone her typical outfit of the red armor of the Captain of the Guard, instead going for a more practical wardrobe in a goldenrod leather jacket and tightly fit pants, with boots strapped up to her ankles selected for ease of walking on the sands.

Across the aisle, Janna - who had now changed into a look more suited to her style, adorning cargo shorts and a generously low-cut white blouse - and Sona were quietly conversing about their own adventures accompanying the two top laners while Ezreal was in a completely different compartment, socializing with a couple of excited female summoners who were big fans of the handsome youth. Rammus was...somewhere on the train. He had taken to rolling around the various parts of the train, but fortunately he hadn't caused any problems or accidents… as of yet.

Right now, she was grilling him on what really happened in Piltover, which Jax was withholding from her when they first saw each other again. Someone like the Master of Shadows just didn't go missing without a huge red flag popping up in their minds. Irelia considered the possibility of a champion betraying them, thinking a character like Zed wouldn't be too unlikely.

"Your perception of him is all wrong," Jax was saying. "He's not what you would call evil. Perhaps from yours and the Kinkou's view of things, but Zed just has a different outlook on things. It's a lot harsher from your typical view of the world, but his scale of character is heavily influenced by power. And only self-obtained power. He has no respect for those who try to weasel their way in by sabotaging others.

"In any case, the group vaguely known to me as the Delta Syndicate had attacked us when we were hiding in one of Janna's abandoned apartments. We were caught completely off guard, and the only way any of us were to escape was by some distraction. Since Zed was the first one to react, he chose to remain behind and keep a good six people occupied while he let Janna and myself escape," Jax explained.

"So you don't know where he is," Irelia stated.

"I have absolutely no idea," the grandmaster admitted. "It's not something I'm proud of. I would have easily taken his place if we had swapped positions. But an Ionian like yourself would be the last person to underestimate how dangerous Zed can be when pushed to extremes. The last thing I would call Zed, besides evil, is dead."

"Very well," the Will of the Blades conceded. "Then let's move on to Azir."

"What would you like to know?"

She moved her hand absentmindedly across the edge of one of her blades. "I don't know much about the emperor himself. We've barely met on the Fields of Justice, and when we do there's hardly any discussion of political matters. He definitely commits to a battle one hundred percent, and his soldiers show unwavering loyalty to him. I'd hope their trust doesn't go to waste."

"They're representations of the former glory of the empire," Jax pointed out. "He only brings them there to execute his will. Azir does put a premium on the welfare of his empire, and he's willing to go to any length to ensure it won't fall again. This does lead to a keen, if naive, sense of justice, but also some overeager idealism. Like I said, although the empire is back, it's still a shadow of its former self. He'll think he can do things that are beyond his limits, but he'll definitely give it a try if he deems it necessary for his dear Shurima."

"And how'd you come to this report on him?" the Ionian queried.

"He once played against me in the top lane," Jax commented simply. "He never made that mistake again."

"Was it really that bad?" Irelia wondered.

"The emperor doesn't like bringing it up. He did come up to talk to me about how much he'd learned from our match, how he enjoyed the challenge, how he admired my fighting style, and would I mind going for a walk on the promenade with him sometimes? I chose to decline, but that didn't stop me from having to endure a good ten minute lecture on the goals he had for his empire and how he was working really hard with the Institute and other champions to make his dreams reality. It was hard not to zone out but I'm glad I still remember what he was talking about now," Jax related.

"At least he's not like most heads of state," she mused. "He sounds a lot like Ashe, but I don't think you'd call her idealistic. That's more of a label for Prince Jarvan, don't you think?"

"You might have a point there," Jax said thoughtfully. "Here's the difference between the emperor and the Frost Archer. Ashe has that whole peaceful, one Freljord, one people mantra, but she's not disillusioned by it although her view of the world might appear really optimistic. She's experienced the struggles of reconciling reality with her visions of a utopia. That vision is still in her head despite the dealings with the Winter's Claw, the rise of the Frostguard, all that jazz. Azir's rule is yet to be tested. Sure, it's no secret that Xerath has directly opposed him, but there hasn't been a full scale conflict challenging the emperor. I feel his first great test will happen when we arrive."

Jax lifted his legs over the edge of his seat and leaned against the compartment wall. "The exemplar's an idealist for sure, though. Demacian nobles haven't gotten it in their heads that the world is slowly catching up to them and they don't have that godlike city-state status like they did at the end of the Second Runic War. Don't be like Demacia," he urged her.

Irelia contemplated his words for a second before responding. "I don't think Ionia's like any other city-state, to be frank. You might call it a naive opinion, but I do think we're very unique." She looked at him intently, knowing he was going to challenge her statement. A while back, the very thought of trying to keep eye contact with the man under the robe would've unnerved her, but she didn't feel any discomfort looking at him now. She didn't feel a difference between talking with him and talking with Karma or Soraka.

Jax stared at her for a second, although she couldn't tell what his eyes were looking at under his hood. She never considered it fair that he didn't have to show his eyes when talking with her, although he refused to speak anything about the subject. "What are you trying to uphold in Ionia?" the grandmaster finally inquired after nearly a minute of sustained silence.

"Balance," she confidently replied. It wasn't a difficult question, as it was the main tenet of Ionian society. Achieving peace with the world and with yourself was all about ensuring an equal mixture of what life had to offer residing within yourself.

"Balance… all that talk about harmony, finding inner peace, establishing order. It's not too far off from the other city-states you mentioned. The Avarosan want a unified Freljord. That would make the tribes live in harmony and end up living in peace. It'd be balanced because there wouldn't be any factions fighting for power. And look at Demacia. Their sense of justice is all about creating order in this world. There shouldn't be anything out of line that their law can't restrain. With order, there's peace, because there's nothing to challenge the order and there won't be strife. There's your balance - nothing to tip the scales of society because the state's created the perfect order that doesn't need to be changed," Jax challenged. "That would be the same concept Ionia is going for, wouldn't it?"

"Not necessarily," Irelia disagreed. "Balance isn't about melding society into what we want it to be. It's about keeping it where it should be. Those states that you mentioned want everything to be in harmony under their own administrations. That's not the case with us. Our government is probably one of the most decentralized structures on Runeterra.

"We never had a queen or a king. It's always been our Council of Elders and a few other statesmen. You might look at me as one of the leaders of Ionia, but I've never felt that way. I'm just the Captain of the Guard. That title gives me the responsibility of defending our homeland, not ruling over it. But we all make our decisions as a group, which is how we all started when man entered this world. There wasn't any structure like a kingdom or a monarchy when the first inhabitants of Runeterra ended up here. We lived in communities where everyone was their neighbor's equal. There wasn't any overbearing rule. There isn't any preconceived notion that our law is the correct one, or that everyone should come under the banner of the Placidium. We do our best to interfere as little as possible with the natural order, because that's where balance truly comes from."

Jax sat back in his seat. Irelia felt confident in the speech she just gave him, but did he? She was half expecting another witty reply, some flaw in her arguments he would show to point out the error of her ways, but she was speaking from the heart, and she swore to keep the balance within herself despite anything he would try to say to dissuade her otherwise.

Instead, he put his hands together, softly clapping a few times. "Then that's what you are. For your sake, I hope you don't lose that notion of the world. That's what makes Ionia what it is. It's what makes you who you are."

If she imagined it, she could almost sense the sentimentality hidden under his carefully measured voice. "And what do you think, Jax? What's your view of the world?"

He wouldn't look at her at first, instead gazing out the window to the setting sun. "Did they ever teach you in school about how the earth is round and not flat as people once thought it was?"

"Of course. It was a crazy idea people held onto for so long until Zaunite astronomers proved otherwise."

"The ancients weren't wrong," Jax corrected her. "The world's a ladder, and we're all climbing up and down along it. The only thing that's worth it for me is getting to the top."

"And what are you going to find there?" Irelia asked, quite skeptical of his flat world claim.

"Exactly what I'm looking for."

Before Irelia could question him further, the compartment doors opened as Ezreal poked his blond head in. "This is our stop," he told them. "Let's get going!"

She could feel their conversation snap like a string pulled to its breaking point. Why did every time she was about to gleam something meaningful end up to be rudely interrupted? If she didn't know better, it was almost as if the universe was conspiring to keep her in the darkness.

_They can try,_ Irelia swore to herself. _But I'll get my hands on him eventually._

Al'Meyn was a fairly nondescript outpost, the only buildings being stores which sold supplies necessary to make the trek further into the desert and a couple of inns for people who needed to spend the night in the town before heading out onto the sands. The group had decided they wouldn't spend any unnecessary time in the town, however, and made their way to the ranch-like structure where they would borrow Shuriman camels to make the trek easier for them. It didn't seem Rammus would need any help traversing the desert, as his form was well suited to moving across the sands.

"The Capital is much too far away to reach in one day, and so is our intended destination," Ezreal informed them, "so we'll have to spend the night in the desert. But there are a couple of deserted temples we can take refuge in during the night, so we'll survive." Pointing to a space on the map Jax was holding, the explorer showed where the ruins Jax's group could go to would be in relation to Al'Meyn and their eventual destination. "The ward crystals I've gotten for our two groups should point you along the right path. When you get to the five palm trees, make sure to turn perpendicular to the path and just keep walking. You'll find the ruins soon enough. If all else fails, just follow Rammus, he'll probably know what he's doing." Ezreal's last statement didn't convince Irelia very much.

"And in no circumstance should you EVER cross the Apophian Trilithon," Ezreal warned. "It's a structure with two stone slabs standing upright and a third placed atop them lying on its side. Nothing good will come out of that."

"Why's that? What happens if you do?" Irelia wanted to know, her curiosity getting the better of her.

A shade crossed over the explorer's eyes as he focused his attention on her, making the Ionian shiver. She almost regretted asking. "You don't want to find out."

The group sat there in silence before out of all things, the armordillo made the first move. "OK," he said before curling into a ball and making his way across the sands. Jax, who Irelia was sharing a camel with, made haste to follow.

"We'll see you guys later, then," Ezreal called out as he took the reins of his own camel and went in a different direction, with Sona and Janna following him on their own shared camel. "Good luck out there!"

"He's very blunt, isn't he?" she asked Jax, who had chosen to change into some beige robes more resembling a nomadic traveller of the desert.

"He was never one to worry about societal norms," Jax commented. "The kid's absorbed in his work. It's only a matter of time before his charisma runs out and he actually has to learn about how to deal with people."

"Because you know so much about being polite to others, right?" Irelia said sarcastically.

"I know enough," the grandmaster asserted. The pair continued to ride the camel, with Rammus rolling across the sands ahead of them. Irelia couldn't look directly in front of them, as the harshness of the sun's rays, directly in front of them due to it sitting right atop the horizon, threatened to blind her if she dared to raise her head.

"I don't take it you've been in the desert many times," Jax diagnosed.

"There's nothing like this in Ionia," admitted Irelia. "You wouldn't go very far without being able to rest in the shade of a dogwood or a fir. Every square mile of the environment was filled with life. Now… it makes you feel pretty alone in the world."

"I can dig the isolation thing," Jax shrugged. "The desert sun is the thing getting to me. It doesn't make wearing these robes very comfortable."

"So why'd you wear them in the first place?" the Ionian asked.

"Force of habit."

Their banter continued back and forth for quite some time until after the sun had finally gone down and they were rewarded with the much colder temperature of the Shuriman night. Especially in the winter, the desert took extreme temperatures of hot and cold at various times of day, but the two travellers' choice of clothing suited them well for the nighttime voyage. Rammus felt completely comfortable no matter the temperature.

Suddenly, they could feel their camel slowing to a halt. "What's going on?" Jax asked. He patted the camel's head. "You tired, buddy?"

"I don't think it's the camel's fault, Jax," Irelia pointed out as she began to feel a sinking sensation. The camel tried to run in panic, but found its legs being sucked in by the downward force.

"Quicksand!" she called out as she took a look all around them - surely enough, the sands had begun to shift downwards, and their camel was right in the middle of the pit. Up ahead, Rammus showed signs of slowing down, but he was able to maintain his acceleration to a point where he continued rolling along the sides of the pit before obtaining enough momentum to propel himself out of the quicksand, where he stood on the edge of the sink, looking at them curiously.

"Damnit, how's he going to help us?" Irelia cried out in despair. Sizing up the situation, Jax carefully stood atop the camel and made a jump for it. His hands barely caught the edge of the pit, but the force of the sliding sands was pushing the rest of his body towards the center, where it was only a matter of time before he would fall into the vortex. Irelia attempted to follow his lead, but wobbled a bit before she could maintain balance atop the camel, which was now flailing around in confusion and fright. Nearly falling off her perch, she couldn't muster the strength needed to propel herself as far as Jax, and instead fell woefully short of her mark, immediately feeling the tug of the sands pulling her under as she tried with great effort to pull her arms out of the sands.

Rammus was there to offer a spike on his shell for Jax to grab on, and with some extraordinary effort from the armordillo, Rammus was able to hold his balance while Jax pulled himself up agonizingly slowly from the sandy whirlpool and onto solid ground. He turned to look into the vortex once more, beholding a desperate struggle.

The Ionian had managed to gain control of her arms, but the rest of her body was sinking as Irelia was up to her knees in the quicksand about halfway up the pit. She had thrust one of her blades into the ground, hoping to find purchase in order to halt the sinking, but her efforts had been in vain as the blades too were not able to remain upright in the sands, also slowly descending under the surface. Their camel's legs were almost entirely covered as it brayed in despair, wriggling its whole body in futile efforts to extricate itself from the pit.

Her situation was laughable, and she had to resist laughing cynically at her plight as she sized up her situation. Twice now she had encountered the creatures of the Institute, wielding powers far beyond her comprehension, yet with the help of her fellow champions, she could defeat them and halt their periods of ravaging the champions, at least temporarily. But now she was stuck trying to escape the clutches of nature herself, only a few feet from her fellow champions, separated by the cruel laws of gravity forbidding Jax from jumping in and saving the day. What a shame it would be, to succumb to the one opponent you couldn't even fight!

_I will not go out like Father_, Irelia resolved in her mind. Master Lito had grown weaker by the very illness which killed him, but his daughter was still able to act. Previously she had relied on the capabilities of her body and her fighting to progress this far. Now she would have to use her wits to survive. Looking at the edge of the pit, she found a small ledge where the sand seemed compact enough to hold something if it was stuck in there. Willing one of her blades out of the sand, she thrust into the ledge, where her blade hung at a slight horizontal angle. It seemed to hold.

She was still a good seven feet away from being able to grasp onto it, a feat made even more difficult by the sand, now up to her thighs, preventing her from getting any leverage to make a jump for it. Reaching out with her other blade, she found she was about two feet short from connecting the blades, where she would be able to link them together and get Jax and Rammus to pull her up by her weapons. Hope quickly turning into despair, Irelia frantically racked her mind for another idea. The sand was continuing to swallow her.

"I need it to be closer!" she cried out to Jax, who was looking intently at the blade cast into the ledge. Coming to an understanding, he lay down on the edge of the small cliff and, pulling out her spirit blade, leaned over the precipice and extended his arm down, dangling the blade as close to Irelia as he could. The two blades could barely make contact, but Irelia knew she didn't have forever to act as the quicksand was slowly pulling her body further and further down, increasing the distance between her and Jax.

She created the mental link to connect the two blades together, becoming one longsword, which thankfully did not cut Irelia at the end where she was holding it, the blade end which would refuse to cut its own master. Taking a hold of it with one arm, which was the most she could muster, she looked at Jax desperately, knowing the only way she could pull herself up was by effort on his end.

Realizing what he needed to do, Jax barked out an order. "Hold on to me, Rammus!" The armordillo complied as he took a firm hold of the grandmaster's leg while Jax concentrated all of his efforts into pulling the blade up. However, despite Rammus' rock-solid foundation holding down their center of gravity and Jax's immense strength, the progress they were making in extricating Irelia out of the quicksand seemed to be going nowhere.

She realized she was going to have to pick up the slack. Summoning a herculean effort from the inner reserves of her muscles, she pulled onto her blade with all her might, but she could only sense her frame rising a few inches, and she couldn't hold the energy needed for it longer than a few seconds before the sand once again took over her, threatening to pull her further down. Jax was now only hanging from his knees, held only in place by Rammus' flawless anchoring. Irelia was still slowly sinking, nearing their camel, which was now covered up in sand almost to its neck. Its cries of terror were now taking its toll on both her body and her spirit.

The solution finally came to her, but as soon as it popped up in her mind, she tried to strike it down. There was no way she was going to stoop that low. Yet the sands would show no mercy, and nothing was going to stop her eventual descent into the maw of the Shuriman underground. She had no other choice if she valued her life.

The sand around her legs was a bit looser now, as the most compact part was around her waist. Her lower leg was free to thrash around, and she probed her leg back into the empty space below the pit before she found the camel's body. With some hesitation as she attempted to suppress the pangs of guilt developing in her chest, she kicked off hard against the camel, causing it to sink deeper under the sands while Irelia found enough leverage to lift her torso cleanly out of the sand, allowing Jax a lot easier time to drag her up. Eventually, she got her whole body out of the swirling maelstrom of sand, and after a few minutes of careful pulling, she found herself lying on the surface, chest undulating wildly up and down as she attempted to catch her breath, sand flowing into her mouth with every gulp of air she took. Irelia couldn't hold back the tears which intermingled with the bitter taste of the desert intruding onto her tongue, and spat everything out onto the ground with a great deal of effort.

"How…" she sobbed, choking out a few words between sniffs. "Why did I have to? Tell me… there was another way, Jax!"

Jax stoically shook his head. "You did what you had to. Believe me, I would rather have you alive and accept the loss of the animal before you make your choice than hedge on a small chance to rescue both yourself and the camel."

Irelia pulled herself onto her knees, her chest still expanding and shrinking from both the struggle and the tears. Jax got down alongside her, putting an arm around her shoulders and doing his best to comfort her. "It was the only way."

Unable to say another word, Irelia managed to come to a standing position, refusing to look at Jax as she followed the trail set by Rammus, who hadn't uttered a single phrase during the whole struggle and took to his rolling ball form, once again sweeping across the sands. Sighing, Jax too stood up and made up the rear, making sure to keep his distance until she calmed down.

Underneath the brilliant light of the moon, Irelia caught the sight of the five palm trees which Ezreal had mentioned, tree trunks glistening in the lunar splendor. Following the instructions, the group turned ninety degrees and continued their journey with the crescent moon illuminating their backs.

After about ten minutes, the shape of buildings came into sight at the bottom of the dune on which they walked. Relieved to have reached the ruin they were seeking, the three champions hurried between two columns and into the wreckage of the former building, which appeared to have been a temple in the past. A piece of the roof had collapsed, creating a small alcove where a section of limestone floor lay above the sands and the point where the roof and the wall of the temple met formed a cozy opening, covered by the tilings of the roof. Jax indicated for Irelia to slip in first before he wedged his way in. There was only about two feet of room within the rocks to work with, so they had to lay side by side in order to fit. Rammus took it upon himself to curl up into a ball at the foot of the alcove and proceed to sit there motionless. Irelia assumed he could fall asleep quite promptly.

"It's a bit uncomfortable, the floor," Irelia spoke timidly, the first words she said in about an hour. "Here, I'll spread out my jacket for our heads to lie on." She proceeded to lay on the floor, her hand tapping the ground to indicate that Jax join her.

The grandmaster followed, letting his head lie against the soft fabric. The sleeping arrangements were quite uncomfortable, but they weren't going to get anything better than this.

Irelia turned to face him, hazel eyes staring into his hood, finding nothing but a few glowing lights emanating from under it. "Thank you for saving me."

"It's all in a day's work, kid."

She had to look away, anger beginning to burn under the surface. "You can't just keep brushing things off like they're nothing! If it wasn't for you I wouldn't be here now! It's me all the time, having to be rescued by you because of the mistakes I keep on making! Aren't you just going to accept the fact that you're amazing and you're going to save the day every time?"

Jax gave her a very patient look, something she didn't expect in response to her childish outburst. Unable to hold the return stare, Irelia once again tore her eyes from him, giving an exasperated sigh as she turned her back to him. Jax lay there for a moment, thinking of what to do, before taking part of his robe and draping it over Irelia's figure. She rotated on her side to face him again, looking at him in surprise.

"The desert's merciless at night. Few people properly take into account the temperature drop. You'll need this," he explained.

Irelia pulled the robe around her tighter as she scooted closer to him. For once, she could sense his breathing in the muscles of his neck, despite the perpetual shroud around his face masking everything she would like to see. "Thank you."

"It's fun coming to your rescue, you know," Jax said as he proceeded to wrap his right arm around her waist.

Irelia buried her face into his shoulder. "I don't think you'd enjoy having to do that every time," she told him regretfully.

He moved his hand upwards, cradling her head and gently rubbing the back of her neck. "One day, you'll realize you're worth saving. You'll always be."

The light trained on the two sleeping figures eventually faded as the moon made its exit behind the willowy curtain of clouds.

* * *

**A/N: **Behold your god Rammus.

I wanted to bring in a lot more world building in this chapter but instead you get Jax/Irelia interaction. A lot of it. The topic of Azir's empire is something barely touched upon in recent lore so it'll be interesting to try my hand at depicting it.

Next chapter might actually be from Ezreal. I didn't picture this originally but it shouldn't go too badly.

Got a few requests for Diana, and one recently for Nami. I'm not sure if this is a coincidence, but I have a really fun story idea involving these two... unfortunately, it probably wouldn't be worked on until I get a lot more of this done, but I do have them in my head for future writing!

Thanks for all the reviews, though. The story's starting to get more recognition and knowing there are readers who appreciate my work really makes my day.


	15. The Descent into the Tomb

Despite his immersion into network optimization by refining the code of the teleportation system used extensively within the Institute of War and other locations around Valoran, Ezreal was not a binary man.

He lived for the thrill of adventure, the excitement of discovery, the sensations of innovation. There wasn't an 'impossible' in Ezreal's vocabulary. Difficulties ranged from 'I'd do it with my eyes closed' to 'I almost gave that a thought.' His unbounded confidence was impressively backed by a good degree of aptitude, but upon entering the League of Legends, he more than once met his fair match on the Fields of Justice. If there was one thing a proud person hated, it was the boasting of another one as they rubbed their victory in the face of their defeated opponent, an experience Ezreal didn't care to repeat after having his insides turned all but inside-out by the blade of Fiora Laurent.

He had recently turned his attention towards the growth of hextech, a revolution spearheaded in his hometown of Piltover. After witnessing firsthand the immense potential of the recently discovered material, he made an effort to perform his own individual research into the field, relying on his natural ingenuity to make productivity out of his random tinkering. By studying the make of the mystical gauntlet which he discovered in an abandoned tomb in the very desert in which he was now journeying, he gathered a good idea of the nature of essence, the matter which served as the gauntlet's ammunition and could also be harnessed as a source of energy. With a fair bit of control over essence, he was able to manipulate the energy into other devices, leading to some uniquely powered hextech lamps, billboards, and more excitingly, firearms.

The combination of a resourceful mind and a pretty face made Ezreal quite a popular character with the female demographic, an attribute which only grew once he entered the Institute as a champion. Those two characteristics were also shared by his good friend, Jayce, but while the Defender of Tomorrow upheld a more stringent set of morals due to his innate sense of justice, Ezreal turned out to be more of a trickster, a wannabe playboy whose flirtatious undertakings more often than not ended in a semi-public ridiculing. The humiliation stung for a day or two, but his thick skin toughened him up to the point where he would be at it again within the week. The prodigy had come back from several failed courtships of female champions of the League with the conclusion that equally accomplished women were not as easily impressed by his accomplishments, which were a bit meager in comparison to some of the more extraordinary experiences certain champions had undergone.

The Will of the Blades had been his first attempt, and it was a blunder of quite large proportions that Ezreal kept the incident in a dark recess of his mind, unwilling to bring the story back to the surface of recollection. The only thing he took from the misguided foray was that he would never, ever patronize a woman skilled with a blade again. Especially those with a telekinetic control over them.

_I remember the aftermath of that_, the Maven of the Strings cut in, interrupting Ezreal's self-reflection in the middle of their uneventful journey and cutting him out of his reverie. _You didn't show up to any public gathering for four days_.

He had to catch the reins of his camel to avoid falling off. "Ugh, Sona, do you really have to keep that mind-reading filter on all the time?" the explorer complained.

_No one respects how close I can get with them when they make the mental link_, Sona commented, and Ezreal could sense the disappointment in her thoughts. _It was never going to be an adequate replacement for muteness._

"Something the matter, guys?" the wind mage who was directing the reins of the other camel asked. Janna was, of course, cut out of the strictly monogamous mental connection, which forced her to continually ask what was going on if Ezreal didn't relay to her the proceedings passing between him and the blue-haired musician.

"Nothing, nothing," he hastily corrected as he tried to sweep the issue under the table. "Sona's just being a little intrusive again."

_It's not on purpose!_ she defiantly claimed. _First Irelia, now you… I hope people eventually learn. Not that I have any problem with you forgetting_, she added mischievously.

"Hm? Irelia's got her own secrets to share, then?" Ezreal asked, still curious as to the Ionian's personal life despite his infamous failure with her.

_You could say so_, came the vague response.

"That's what you two have been going on about?" Janna realized, her tone somewhere between annoyed and amused.

"It was just a passing thought!" Ezreal replied defensively. "I mean, it's not a crime to still be interested in what she's up to. Just a different kind of interest this time, I swear." Despite their disastrous beginnings, Ezreal had done a good job of changing her impression of him over the years, his exploits on the Fields of Justice and achievements in his fields of specialty drawing an admiration from the Ionian champion.

"Hmm," Janna said thoughtfully. "I might have an idea of what she's referring to." She stopped her statement there, only exasperating Ezreal further. _All you supports seem to have this running gag in making marksmen as miserable as possible when we're not on the rift._

_Hey, I heard that_, the slightly miffed musician thought.

He ignored the comment. "Janna, come on, we go way back. Don't keep a good guy in the dark."

The sorceress scoffed, but was about to make a reply when Sona tapped her on the shoulder, indicating that she'd take over the matter._ She's been thinking a lot about Jax ever since they got involved in this whole business. Don't you think they go well together?_

"And here I thought there was something more substantial behind what you were hiding," Ezreal remarked in disappointment. "You all also like to pair everyone else up in some ridiculous way with that gossip of yours. Jax with her? I don't doubt the dude's got game, but he doesn't seem like one to be tied down like that."

"This gossip is actually legitimate, though," Janna informed him. "Wasn't it obvious from the way they were acting around each other? Sona and I could see that coming from miles away, and we didn't even need to link our minds to figure that out."

"Now you're just spewing that female intuition bullshit," Ezreal continued, already feeling the beginnings of a headache. He had considered the idea of traveling with two women more of a reward than a prison, being restrained by the ever-confusing obstacle also known as the female psyche, but now he was being tortured by the supports speaking in circles when they could easily talk plainly to him.

"Discredit it all you want, but it's the truth," Janna asserted. "Is our little Ez getting jealous of the grandmaster?" she teased.

Ezreal had to restrain a snort, which he didn't do very well. "Hardly," he answered. "I'd be one of the last people on Runeterra to be jealous. Do I strike you as the needy type?"

The two women looked at each other for a second before Janna burst out laughing and Sona gave him a look of pity while trying to hold back the wide grin on her face, which produced a very interesting expression.

It took a few moments for Janna to calm down. "You didn't want to hear this, but yes, you do."

_I don't have to remind you of your last date with Nidalee, do I?_

The explorer was taken aback. It was one of his less horrible flings, though it was most known for being so… strange. "Hey, I thought that only happened with actual cat species! How was I supposed to know that she -"

An inhuman shriek from faraway cut his statement off, the sound frightening the camels. It took several strokes of the animal's head and a tight, yet comforting grip on the reins to keep his ride from bolting. Seldom had he heard sounds like that on the Fields of Justice, and it took him a while to remember the source, but as the epiphany dawned on him he understood the gravity of their predicament. It was the cry of a Xer'Sai.

"It's not the queen. It can't be!" Ezreal cried out as he felt the sand vibrate, signalling the movement of a presence getting closer by the second. The largest and most dangerous of the species, Rek'Sai, was allegedly held in the Institute to undergo experimental testing, last he heard. Although the piece of information was relevant and definitely some good news, it didn't help lower the level of danger they were in, as if the regular kind of the species was anything close to the queen in terms of power, the group would definitely be in it for the long haul.

"Control your mount!" the explorer realized. "Get it to stop moving!" Remembering the characteristics of the species, Ezreal tried to play around the sensory system the Xer'Sai employed. With their eyes of no use underground, the burrowers relied on sensing the movement of their prey to track them down, each footstep causing vibrations which resonated in their minds. With great difficulty, Ezreal succeeded in calming the camel down to a state of standing idle. Looking to his left, he could see the two women come to the same result.

He could still sense the sand moving beneath the surface, the Xer'Sai traveling a circular path around their location, but unable to continue to track them due to their lack of movement. Ezreal knew it was all going to come down to the unburrow, for if it tunneled right below them, he would've been sent flying and almost certainly pulled into the digestive tract of a Xer'Sai.

Another arc of motion paralleled the first, moving along the point in the imaginary circle directly opposite the first point where one Xer'Sai was circling them. _Two of these buggers. Just my luck._

He felt pretty secure, however. As long as they didn't move from their current locations, the predators might give up their efforts and travel a good distance away before they would be apprehended by the beasts. The thought became less and less likely the more it developed into his mind, but a flawed strategy would be better than none.

The predators made their move simultaneously, each unburrowing in a twelve-foot in diameter circle, sand splashing from their backs from the ascent and causing Ezreal to wipe off a bit from his face as he realized that their trick wouldn't work now that the creatures were above ground. Leaping down from his perch on the camel, he readied his gauntlet as he waited for the Xer'Sai to make the first move.

Although not as agile as their queen, the creatures possessed formidable speed, crawling on all four legs towards the explorer, who couldn't run as fast as he wanted to in the sand, but was able to make a somersault out of the Xer'Sai's dash in time to escape unscathed. Firing a bolt of essence from his gauntlet, his aim struck true as the creature let out of a cry of pain as it turned around to confront him once again. It charged once again, and Ezreal could once more dodge to the side, making sure he kept his distance as he continued to pelt it with packets of energy summoned from his gauntlet. In his periphery, he was acutely aware of the two women dancing around the Xer'Sai as well; Janna's wind magic kept it at bay while Sona played a powerful chord or two on her etwahl to accentuate the force of the tornados, now mini-sandstorms due to their location in the desert, coming from Janna. The two beasts showed little signs of intelligence or a capacity of learning as they reared their heads in a third attempt to run the smaller champions down in a show of sheer force. Ezreal was ready to sidestep the frontal assault almost lazily when the creature caught him off guard by quickly burrowing under the ground in mid-charge. Panicking, he prepared to blink away by distorting the matter in front of him into a flow of essence, but he soon realized his mistake when, after his repositioning, the Xer'Sai simply came barreling out of the ground, right beneath him. Ezreal was knocked up into the air, falling on his side as the Xer'Sai plopped out of the tunnel right in front of him, baring its fangs.

It was then that a creature seemed to materialize out of a small, purple wormhole-like opening in the air and a familiar looking, human-sized sentient insect rushed to intercept the Xer'Sai as it went for its devouring blow. The bug looked different from when Ezreal last remembered - it had donned a golden exterior, with areas of green on the undersides of its wings and claws. The very same claws tore into the hard skin of the desert predator, making the Xer'Sai recoil in pain.

Ezreal looked up in wonder at his unexpected savior. "Kha'Zix?" When he thought about it, it made no sense for a Void monster to attack its own creatures. Yet the familiar figure of the humanoid mantis was unmistakable despite its exterior alterations. The Voidreaver was now holding up its claws threateningly, signalling to the Xer'Sai that it meant business and was going to hold them at bay in case of any sudden aggression.

"Do not make me regret offering my aid, explorer," the bug spoke as it advanced on the Xer'Sai, which was backing up. Still wary of the danger it could pose, the threat was far from neutralized, a fact both Kha'Zix and Ezreal respected.

"Well?" the predator asked impatiently. "It's not going to kill itself." Seeing the indecision linger on Ezreal for a moment too long, Kha'Zix shook his head and swiftly leapt towards the Xer'Sai, intending to sink his claws into its body once again. The burrower was fast, but the insect was faster, and it once again uttered a cry of discomfort as it tried to buck the Voidreaver off its back. Holding his balance steady despite the constant rocking of his unsteady surface, Kha'Zix bent low atop the sand beast's body and stabbed a claw deep into it, resulting in a violent spasm which did successfully throw the hunter off his prey. Ezreal, in the meantime, had taken the opportunity to launch a few more shots of essence at the Xer'Sai, and although his accuracy wasn't one to complain about, it didn't suffer as much injury to his hands than to Kha'Zix's.

To make things worse, he sensed his mana reserves running low from all the long-range artillery he had been firing. As of recently he had experimented with different item builds when playing matches on the Fields centered around maintaining a constant flow of mana to continue shooting barrages of energy at his opponents from a very safe distance, an arsenal of equipment dubbed the "blue build" after the color of its weapons. Though quite effective, it did come with a cost: the ramp-up time took longer than standard marksman setups and, for obvious reasons, he wasn't able to muster up the firepower in his current situation.

"Don't have a lot left on me, Kha'Zix!" he warned as he backed up, trying to keep his distances while his resources naturally recharged. Nothing was spent in the regeneration of his mana, but it did take a while because it was free.

The Void mantis was about to offer a few words of disgust but had to hold on to his reproach as the Xer'Sai once again charged him, although he expertly dodged to the side before launching a trio of spikes from his back, rupturing the tough skin of the sand beast. It retreated underneath the sands to nurse its wounds, a gesture which put all of them back on guard as now the advantage lay with it.

"Come on, just a few more seconds," Ezreal pleaded to his gauntlet, which gave a reading indicator of 25% mana. A few more ticks and he would have the capacity to unleash a powerful attack, which combined with the Voidreaver's next strike, should be enough to smite the desert predator down. He could sense the rippling of the sands coming towards him, realizing it had turned its attentions towards him as he seemed more of a vulnerable target than Kha'Zix. Retreating in a semicircle in order to position himself closer to the bug, he impatiently watched the settings on his gauntlet to see exactly when his mana would hit the level he needed.

Finally, he could see the threshold approaching. "Jump at it when it comes out of the sand," Ezreal instructed. "I've got my essence back." With a look of understanding, Kha'Zix assumed a crouching position, ready to spring in the air and intercept the Xer'Sai when it chose to resurface.

"Trueshot Barrage sequence initialized." The explorer smiled to himself.

The sand erupted nearly on top of Ezreal, who was just barely able to roll out of the way as the sand once again threatened to obscure his vision. The Voidreaver was slightly less bothered by the clouded air and was able to tackle the Xer'Sai as it tried to pounce on Ezreal, who was now readying his gauntlet in preparation to unleash his strongest ability.

A bow-like catalyst appeared in his hand as a wave of energy came forth, speeding towards the Xer'Sai and Kha'Zix, the latter of which was able to duck under the concave crescent as it passed through the Xer'Sai, causing a shock which called to mind a bolt of electricity running through it before the beast crumpled onto the sand and lay there, motionless. The wave continued to hit the other Xer'Sai behind the first one, as Sona and Janna stopped their endless kiting around and turned their attention to the source of the Trueshot Barrage.

_Phew_, Sona relayed to him. _That was a great shot, Ezreal!_

"Killing two sharks with one stone, huh?" Janna called to him as they made their way back to Ezreal before noticing Kha'Zix's presence. Immediately turning on the defensive, they strafed around him to stand alongside the explorer.

"Always on your guard, aren't you?" the mantis scoffed. "I did not come here to devour you. I do not even intend to consume these beasts," he gestured at the fallen Xer'Sai bodies.

"Then what brings you to these parts, Kha'Zix?" Ezreal inquired cautiously.

"You are aware of what I desire from this world. My hunger burns for the strongest and most formidable creatures that walk the land. It brought me to the Institute of War, where they have kindly labeled my prey - all you fleshlings they call 'champions.' But the Prophet is aware that the Institute which has taken us all in is trying to impede the abilities of these champions. He has revealed how several times in the past they have attempted to tamper with me. Me, the greatest hunter the Void has ever known! The nerve of those imbeciles! It will only make it all the more satisfying when I feast on all they have to offer."

Ezreal shared an uneasy look with the two supports as Kha'Zix continued. "The Prophet has sensed disturbances in this desert, and has sent me to investigate. I would have gladly let you be the Xer'Sai's dinner, if I had not been informed that there was another group in the area looking to expose the Institute." The Void hunter looked at the group with some confusion. "Where is Jax?"

"He went another way," Ezreal spoke up, "and took Irelia and Rammus with him to the Capital where they're going to visit the emperor. We're on our way to seek out Xerath, because we're sure one of these two champions are the target of the Institute's next move."

Kha'Zix hummed to himself. "It is understood. I will assist your party in this undertaking, then."

Though he was willing to accept the help of another champion in their efforts, the concept of a Void creature like Kha'Zix joining their little group was a bit offputting for Ezreal. "Uh…" he stammered, at a loss of words to express his opinion.

"I can see why such an arrangement would be… undesirable," Kha'Zix noticed, "but believe me, I do this out of necessity rather than convenience. You will need me to help you defeat the challenges which lie in Shurima."

"And why is that?" Janna asked.

"Because of the disturbance Malzahar had sensed," the Voidreaver informed them. "It too is from the Void."

* * *

There was nothing to fear from the shadows. After all this time, it had become an old friend rather than an unsolicited stranger knocking at the door. One could find an inner peace amidst the blackness, a soothing sensation of emptiness able to clear the mind of all its iniquity. Within darkness was enlightenment.

Yet this darkness was not very familiar. It bordered on the edge of oblivion, threatening to pull in those foolish enough to draw close enough to it. It served as an amnesiac which would devour the mentality of its victims before nothing remained in their minds besides a hollow space. The darkness felt like standing on the Stygian shoreline, about to get your feet wet by the slowly undulating movements of the river.

And one had to wonder how the individual workings of the world had wandered into such a desolate scenario. After his escape, he had lost a sense of direction as he continued running, not bothering to stop, not trusting his feet to create enough distance between himself and his pursuers. A couple of wild turns led him to phasing through one abnormally thick wall as he made his escape from one dark corridor to another, but it might have well been a leap from one dimension to another.

Sound did not seem like a concept invented in this domain where silence ruled with an iron fist. Waving a hand around, he could sense nothing around him besides the faint presence of air. Taking a step forward did not seem to indicate advanced motion - rather, it felt like being submersed into a tub of gelatin and he had rotated rather than actually progressed linearly. A few more attempts at walking and he had lost all orientation, finally tripping over his own wayward movements and colliding hard on a surface, whatever it was.

"It's been a while since anyone's stumbled upon this place before!" came a voice, shattering the silence. The sound seemed to break him out of some thinly veiled membrane which was encompassing his entire being, and then his sense of direction had returned. Gravity was now acting on his being properly, and he could finally sense the stone floor atop which he stood. Immediately exhaustion settled into his bones and he could not help but collapse onto the floor, holding himself up by his arms as he laid back to lean on his hands, trying to decipher the source of the voice. Where had he heard it before?

"Why does everyone give me that look when I come up to them? Is there something on my face?" Shaco joked as he materialized in front of him. "Even behind your mask, I can still sense your fear," he taunted, cackling madly to himself.

"What is this place?" he demanded with every semblance of strength he could muster.

The jester had pulled out a pocket mirror from one of his pockets to check his countenance before putting it away, somewhat satisfied. "No real signs of aging. Keeping this charade up is a lot of work, you know?"

He waited patiently for an answer, knowing Shaco would come to reply on his own terms.

"The Zeta Maze is a wonderful contraption. I had no idea something so large could take up so little space, but that's just the wonder of space-time relativity, isn't it?"

He was not amused at Shaco's metaphysical quip.

"You can thank Nocturne for the help in transitive dimension coupling. It really is a thing of beauty. Here you're in the Piltover iteration of the maze, but fret not, there are other versions everywhere in Valoran! Demacia, Noxus, Freljord, even some people pop up in the Shadow Isles. I must confess, that part is my favorite."

Panic begin to flow into him, something he had not felt since the shadows had first accessed his mind. But that incident had eventually brought clarity, whereas this unnatural environment showed no signs of potential promise. If nothing else, he was a prisoner. But the way Shaco was speaking, it turned out to be something different.

"Consider yourself the next contestant for this game. The rules are simple: make it to the end of the maze, and you will be able to walk out a free man. The door will be indicated by a simple green light blinking above it. How straightforward of the game master!" Shaco was having too much fun giving out the instructions, his mouth contorted into a sadistic grin.

"Fail to escape, however… and you'll be locked in here for eternity. Imagine the possibilities of your death - they're endless! Though I must admit the Chronokeeper was right. It will be painful." Shaco glanced around, seeming to check if he had forgotten to mention anything. "That seems to be it for this game. Very simple, isn't it? I'll even guide you through the first part. All you have to do…" he said as he disappeared into the blackness.

He reappeared, his back turned and walking forwards into the maze. But there was an identical clone of him who had appeared on the other side and was walking the completely opposite way.

"...is follow me."

Zed considered his options for a moment and decided to follow the first form into the abyss.

* * *

"The form can take shape quite loosely. What's important is the intent behind the channel," Ezreal was explaining.

With the predatorial insect leading the way, the explorer chose to pass the time by explaining to the ladies the way which magic first came to him. Needless to say, it was a very complicated process in comparison to the ways in which Janna and Sona has received their gifts.

To demonstrate his explanation, he charged a shot blindly, firing it off to the side. "That one requires you to focus on creating a very compact aggregate, so mostly I'm thinking 'solid, solid' to myself. It does a lot more damage that way, but it doesn't pass through units so it stops at the first impact."

_I see_, Sona observed._ It's a lot more substantial than most types of magic._

"To an extent," Ezreal agreed. He fired another charge, a shot which took on a more fragmented form. "That one isn't affected by unit collision, only stopping when it hits a fixed distance. It's not as powerful as the first shot I fired but there's less interference that can affect it.

"It's the same with the gales I conjure up," Janna noted. "I never really thought about what I wanted it to do, just focusing on manipulating the air around me."

"That's what I would expect from the 'naturals,' the people who were pretty much born with this type of talent. I had my origins in physics and techmaturgy, though, so I just couldn't let this power go without some extensive experimentation. It was a lot of work, but boy, there was some interesting points I found out."

"Do go on," the wind mage coaxed, interested in learning about his findings.

"Well, where to begin," Ezreal started, racking his mind for a way to communicate his thoughts without the use of writing, where he would scratch out endless calculations and equations which would probably go right over the heads of his audience. "I suppose I'll talk about our mana at first. It's a bit common knowledge amongst the mage circles, but there's a conduit in our bodies constructed by the Institute in order to regulate the casting of our abilities."

The two ladies nodded, having had to partake in the procedure on their inductions into the Institute as they were both champions which relied on the use of mana to perform their abilities.

"But did you ever wonder why someone like Vladimir never had to undergo that process? Or Riven, for that matter?"

_Now that you did mention it, it's a bit strange_, Sona admitted. _I never really thought about it._

"Yeah, I hadn't really looked into it until now, but there were a couple of explanations, one a lot more plausible than the other. Vlad's a hemomancer, meaning he's able to manipulate the movement of blood within our bodies and gets his sustenance from them. So he never needed to be injected with a mana conduit in his body, because his blood already served the purpose because he has to sacrifice a little bit of blood in order to manipulate his own or someone else's.

"Riven was a far more complicated case. At first I thought it was some after-effect of the Zaunite chemical weaponry used on her battalion which altered her organic composition of some sort, but I realized that wouldn't make her any different from anyone like Irelia or Jax anyways. But then I had to look at it in terms of the way the Institute thought, when Jax came to me about the whole under-the-table dealings the Institute is going on about. She's an Exile, disgraced by her home country, hated by the Ionians for what she did to their country, sneered upon by Zaun because she was supposed to be the guinea pig for their chemicals, and shunned by Demacia for being a Noxian. There's no place for her to really be popular, so the summoners that used her were really freelancers who didn't really care about political affiliation."

"So she would be the perfect champion if the Institute wanted to keep the influence out of the city-states," Janna realized.

"Riven's all about the individualism and the capabilities one person can do," Ezreal agreed. "There's nothing malicious about her at all, though. In fact, she's quite determined to work with anyone if it comes back to achieving her redemption. But the Institute knows that her silly notion of restoring Noxus into her idealized city-state isn't going to work, so they're free to make her their figurehead to keep the power flowing into the Institute, because she's more of their champion than any city-state's. And that's why she doesn't have to be restricted by a mana conduit like almost all of us. The potential is there for her to be one of the most powerful champions, it's just up to the summoners to unleash that power."

The group continued on in silence, the ramifications of what Ezreal had just said making their way into their minds.

"Well, I got a lot off track with that," Ezreal said, scratching his head. "I'm not sure what I was talking about after that," he admitted, laughing it off.

They had reached the end of a sandy rise when their camels came to a stop, interrupted by Kha'Zix's sudden halt. "I would hate to bring an end to your little chat," Kha'Zix cut in, "but there's something of interest here," he indicated, pointing below into a wide basin about a quarter mile in diameter where an obelisk stood, marking the entrance into a subterranean cave.

"I've seen this place before," Ezreal recalled. "The Obelisk of Power, the ancient Shurimans called it. But there was nothing of interest here when first I came."

"If you seek Xerath," Kha'Zix stated, "there would be no better place to be than here. The Prophet had told me he would be around in this region."

"I wouldn't be able to see why he would make his headquarters in here," Ezreal said, frowning. "There wasn't anything but an old emperor's tomb from what I remember when I went in." Yet Kha'Zix was impatient, and despite Ezreal's disagreement, the bug leapt down from the short cliff upon which they stood and landed gracefully on the more compact sand down in the basin. Grudgingly, he followed the bug's instincts, directing the camels to come down a flatter path into the lower area.

Setting the camels outside and tying the reins to a boulder outside the obelisk, the group descended down a set of limestone steps as they entered the dark corridor of the cave. Ezreal led the way, illuminating his gauntlet to provide a small area of light in front of the group as they traversed its length.

"There really is nothing much here," Ezreal commented. "A lot of tombs had dangerous trapdoors or dead ends to them, but this was just one walkway into a central room where the tomb stood."

"My instincts have never failed me before," was all Kha'Zix would respond with.

The group quickly came to the end of the hallway where it opened up into a rotunda with a fairly high ceiling, the barren walls surrounding a single raised platform in the middle of the room where there lay a stone slab, ornately decorated with Shuriman symbols and a mural which appeared to represent the emperor which lay in the tomb. It was all old news to Ezreal, who was busy looking elsewhere, trying to spot a difference in the surroundings which he may have not noticed before. Yet he couldn't see anything out of the ordinary, and was about to tell the group to leave when a guttural voice stopped them in their tracks.

"Why do you dare enter in the presence of the truly Ascended?"

It wasn't the morphed, almost robotic voice of Xerath, but it did come from another Shuriman champion. The one who had heroically sacrificed his life in order to ensure that the magus would be locked away for an eternity and could not lay waste to the world in his terrible, Ascended form.

Renekton, the Butcher of the Stands, stood in front of them, brandishing his butcher's blade and was ready to strike all of them down at a moment's notice.

"Your silence speaks enough to me. So it is," he spoke, summoning his true form, enlarging in size and summoning a massive sandstorm around him.

"Who's next on the chopping block?"

* * *

**A/N: **I can't keep up these 7k+ chapters forever, but this turned out to be a good length for me, although a lot seemed filler and I don't think I made as much progress on Ezreal's part of the plot as I could. I like writing more about Jax and Irelia admittedly.

Zed's predicament, however, was infinitely more fun to write.

On a side note, I'm absolutely convinced Janna is freelo and I've been spamming her in ranked. Like I don't get why it works but I'll take it.


	16. The Dominion of Shurima

Irelia scoffed at the heartwarming ideas of knights in shining armor coming from fairytale, idyllic worlds with all the ceremony of a Piltoverian Day Parade, not once imagining in her mind that the skies would part for her and the world would assemble itself in perfect harmony when she assumed her status as a champion of the League.

So when the skies did become cloudless and the sun shone more on her head than she would ever care for in her entire life, she couldn't help but grumble that life chose to overcompensate for her at the worst possible time. Cursing the unchanging oppression of the desert, all things constant from the sand beneath her feet to the aether above her head. Despite her natural patience, a virtue almost all Ionians learned to develop, she couldn't help but regress into a more childish persona.

"Are we there yet?" she complained as she put another foot in front of her, despondent at the loss of their camel which also served as the carrier of the provisions they could not carry on their persons.

"You'll know it when you see it," came the ever patient reply as Jax, walking in front of her, didn't even bother to turn his head to address the exasperated Ionian. "We move as quickly as a camel would normally go, so it should only take a half hour more if Ezreal wasn't off in his calculations. Isn't that right, Rammus?"

"Yeah."

"See? Nothing to worry," Jax asserted.

Irelia couldn't help but lower her head and groan, feeling unpolished as she felt dirtier and dirtier with every step. Though her boots were designed to handle rough terrain, it still didn't help ward off the sand which was beginning to sink into the soles, creating an uneasy feeling around her toes and the bottom of her feet. Her hair was a fairly disheveled heap, a result of it constantly being pressed against Jax's shoulders as they slept. Despite the calming night they shared, she felt her irritation grow in the morning, which didn't start off well when they realized they didn't have much to eat and nothing in the desert to hunt. Rammus had noticed a few roadrunners zipping by, but even the armordillo's speed could not keep up with the swiftness the flightless birds possessed.

Even Jax was intrigued by Rammus' failure to catch his prey. There was never a time when the armordillo's famed powerball sequence would result in him getting left in the dust when he chased on the Fields of Justice, his only contender being the Shadow of War himself, Hecarim.

"Looks like the stories about Shuriman roadrunners were true, huh?" Jax had said. "Don't worry about it too much, Rammus, I was never a fan of raw fowl anyhow."

"OK."

Irelia, on the other hand, was only a few steps away from being devastated. "In Ionia… the dish of roasted duck was a luxury, even if it did have spices and proper seasoning. All fowl were highly respected meals, and even the most basic of fowls were delicious." She had tried in vain to keep her stomach from echoing her displeasure, much to Jax's amusement.

Thus here she ended up, doomed to traversing the deserts of Shurima with nothing more than her steadfast faith placed in the confidence of Jax and the charisma of a single-word armordillo. Though she wouldn't have preferred her company be anyone else, it did little to cheer her as they struggled to wander through the doldrums. The never-ending undulation of dunes created an almost hypnotizing sequence in the background, and every formation of rocks they passed looked the same.

She barely pulled herself out of the monotony which was threatening to engulf her mind. "Jax, did you notice anything familiar about those rocks we just passed?"

The grandmaster turned to look at her oddly, even for a man without a visible face. "You mean those three stones? Everything looks the same in this desert, although that arrangement is pretty similar."

Irelia pointed a finger, urging him to examine more closely. "The formation is just the reverse of the last group of rocks we just passed. You see it?"

Jax peered his head forward, trying to see the same things she did. "Well, I suppose it is a coincidence. What do you think, Rammus?"

"Yeah."

"Right. Well, we better keep walking, I suppose," Jax shrugged as he resumed his walking.

"Jax…" Irelia started, afraid to say the thought resting in her mind. "Those stones are reversed because we've walked directly around them. So we're seeing them from the other side. We're not walking in a straight line anymore."

The grandmaster froze. "What are you trying to say…" he began carefully.

"We might be lost," Irelia finished, a tinge of dread sweeping into her chest.

"Oh god," Jax realized. "That's the damn trilithon, isn't it?"

Irelia was afraid to gaze upon the rocks once more, as if the sight would destroy her eyes. From a distance, it was difficult to tell, but she relayed what she could see. "Two upright rocks and a… third lying across them. Please don't tell me that's what Ezreal said it was."

"As much as I would like to say that he didn't…"

"Well, damn it all."

"Uh oh," Rammus said fearfully.

When Rammus pulled out a word he didn't normally say, Irelia knew something had to be up. The sound of dust accumulating on the sands pulled her attention behind her as she span around to witness the formation of… something, which Irelia couldn't exactly make sense of. The sand swirled around in circles as limbs were being created from the ground up. Several feet formed first, which were then followed up by skeletal legs. Her blades had already been drawn in a defensive formation as the torsos formed, indicating sizes slightly smaller than Jax, but human-sized all the same. And as the reanimated bones finally developed the rest of their bodies, arms and hands materializing with rickety swords and shields in tow, the second line of skeletons were forming behind them. The skulls were the last to appear, lipless, wide open smiles greeting her. If Irelia didn't know better, she would've thought a group of jesters were summoned up to surround them. But having experience with the most frightening comedian of all, she dared not even crack a smile, even in mirth.

The undead army was forming from all sides, an eerie mass of rattling bones coming together to pincer the three travelers in. The skeletal warriors had their swords drawn as Jax and Irelia raised their own in preparation of the upcoming attack, while Rammus made sure to hold his ground. Grouping up so tightly that they could only edge forward a few inches at a time, the skeletons were, at this rate, simply going to squeeze them so tight that they might just end up suffocating. With that in mind, Irelia realized she had to make the first move as she bent her knees, preparing to pounce like a cougar assaults its prey.

"I don't suppose you've got some genius plan to get us out of this mess?" Jax asked in a tone which was impossible to characterize between hopeful and satirical.

Irelia's mouth curled into a thin, rueful smile. "We're just going to run at them."

The grandmaster nodded in approval. "Has Swain been rubbing off on you lately?" he joked as he fearlessly jumped into a group of skeletal soldiers, trusty lamp post at the ready as he expertly blocked each strike which came at him. Though they were far from being truly lethal strikes, as the skeletons moved with an almost robotic laziness, the sheer number of them made it so that Jax had to dance around the battle carefully when he wasn't performing his Counter Strike.

She wanted to yell at him that they had to stay together, but as the skeletons continued to push in towards him, he disappeared in a formless mass of fighting as she only barely blocked the blows the skeletons around her with her own blades. Attempting to keep the armordillo in her periphery, she bounded across the sand, slicing at the brigade of bones as she swirled her blades in a whirlwind of steel. When she had to deal with many different opponents, she transitioned into a different state and became less of a duelist and more of a dancer, evading the blows of the skeletons while her blades maneuvered around their defenses and shattered the makeup of the bones, making scores of them crumble. At her side, Rammus took on a more defensive approach, relentlessly rolling into groups of warriors to antagonize them into striking him instead. He successfully drew the attention of several skeletons who subsequently shattered their blades onto his extremely tough shell armor, but even Rammus struggled to withstand the sheer amount of force exerted onto him. At times he would have to duck out of the fight, standing around on the edges of a circle which had Irelia at its center.

Her blades wildly rotated as she did, turning every few degrees to deal with the prospect of another expectant challenger whose weapons could not protect them from the wrath of the Will of the Blades. At some point she lost track of her physical surroundings besides the individual strokes of each of the four blades which orbited around her, weaving around in elaborate formations. Irelia knew how the paintings tended to end up on this canvas - bloody splotches of red bombarding a scene of complete slaughter and carnage. That terrible sight only manifested during the Noxian invasion, and although the defense of her homeland was something she held above all else, she never liked to see blood being spilled as a result of other human interference.

These were just animated wights, however, conjured by some mystical spell of the desert, as far as she could tell. She never respected the use of other beings performing the art of combat for some inferior practitioner of magical arts, although she considered the bond between the little Hastur child and her stuffed bear something completely different, while Malzahar was a quite potent being in his own right. No weakling cowardly enough to hide behind their artificial creations was part of the League, a fact Irelia was glad for. She mused on how painful a death on the Fields she would give to any person foolish enough to try and face her.

The neverending circle of skeletons, however, was really beginning to infuriate her. There was no challenge in simply overpowering that which was nothing more than walking carrion, but she knew her energy was limited and that whoever was behind this dishonorable assault was merely waiting for her to exhaust herself. Deciding to put that anger to good use, she lunged forward with a battle cry and sliced the unfortunate bodies of a couple of skeletons cleanly in half.

"Come out and show yourself!" she demanded. She knew there was no way her childish outburst would work, as revealing that she was getting irritated would only make the unseen practitioner feel more inclined to keep themselves at a safe distance. Dodging another two sword strikes, she rolled between two skeletons converging on her location and swept her blade through their midsections, cleanly bisecting them as well.

By this time she had lost track of Rammus as well, her spirit blades serving as her only company as she tried desperately to cut a swath through the myriad of skeletal warriors still relentlessly pressing on, waiting for her to show a sign of weakness, a chink in the armor which would let them to finally break her. Irelia began to sense that her own strength was waning, shifting to more defensive tactics to conserve her resources rather than exert unnecessary effort to cut down a few skeletons when she knew that there would be plenty more to take their place.

Perhaps this was the end of the line for her. It infuriated Irelia, knowing that unlike a battle against a stronger opponent, where she would have some potential to outperform them, there was no chance of success against an endless wave of death coming at her. Somehow, she managed to keep faith; just as the Starchild saved her from leaving this world during the Noxian invasion, despite the Ionian defense being hopelessly outnumbered, she held a constant assurance in her chest that she would not falter.

But what would be there to save her? As much as she respected the armordillo's strength, Rammus was not a miracle worker. He was just a dependable hand without any incredible powers. She considered Jax coming to her rescue through some convoluted plan, but she knew he wasn't one to challenge the storm and turn the tides. He would find a way to overcome, to survive, but he wasn't the guiding light to dispel the forces overwhelming her. Jax was just the one to make it out after the dust settled.

Even the skeletons were seeming to learn her attack patterns, as Irelia found her strikes starting to be blocked by their rusty shields, the discordant clanging surprising her mind as well as her blades. Seeing her efforts at pushing back beginning to falter, they pressed their advantage, pincering her in towards a point where she would not even have enough space to direct one blade to attack them. Becoming stifled by the close quarters, Irelia found herself trying to push against one skeleton, looking for an opening to break that one and use the temporary opening in the mob to jump over them.

She found none.

The blades were about to cleave her skin when a powerful charge swept the skeletons off their feet, knocking them into the air as they flailed helplessly all around her. She raised her eyes to find the source of her salvation: an array of sandy soldiers, spears in hand fending off the remainder of the skeletons which were not blown away by the impact of the wall of sand. The soldiers moved in unison, spears lunging powerfully at the wallowing skeletons which crumbled under their might. They then parted into two groups, sweeping the remainder of the stragglers away. When the dust cleared away, Irelia looked up to see the soldiers disappear into the sand, leaving one figure standing in front of her, extending a hand downwards.

"Arise. They cannot topple Shurima."

* * *

"My soldiers scoured an entire square mile around the trilithon. We have found no trace of the Grandmaster at Arms."

Irelia clenched her fist, the other one making sure to hold on to the reins. "You're telling me he just vanished? There's no way you could've just found Rammus and me without finding Jax!" she lashed out.

"Watch your words carefully, Ionian," the Emperor of the Sands warned. "You should count yourself fortunate that even one of you managed to walk away from that encounter with your life, let alone attempting to salvage all three of yours." Azir rode alongside her, a couple of his retainers leading the way to relay to the watchmen patrolling the wall of the Capital that the emperor was about to return to the city with a couple of extras in his retinue.

"Then what happened to him?" she demanded, her voice once again rising despite Azir's attempts to smother her emotion. "Ezreal told us that we shouldn't have gone near those rocks, but he never told us what could happen if we did!"

"You will not address me in that tone again," Azir commanded, the power in his tone causing Irelia to sit back in her seat a little. There was a slight pause in their conversation, during which Azir continued to look forward, his expression pensive underneath his avian mask. "That is one of the unsolved mysteries of Shurima," he admitted. "Few have ever crossed the skeletal graveyard which lies around the Apophian Trilithon and have lived to tell the tale. The skeletons only turn away at the arrival of the emperor's soldiers. My army appears to be the only force they fear."

His explanation did not please Irelia. "So you're the only one who can keep them under control, but they're still out there terrorizing whoever manages to be unluckily enough to step close enough?"

"I did not say I could command them," Azir corrected. "They move to their own designs, and although they will turn tail at the sight of my soldiers, they are in no way my subordinates."

"I've had enough of this nonsense," Irelia decided, trying to turn her camel around. "I have to go back and find him."

"Cease!" the emperor commanded, his voice deepening and producing an echo which unnerved Irelia. She hazarded a glance back at Azir, who had commanded the rest of the caravan to halt and turn to face her, the judgmental eyes of his retainers prodding into Irelia's resolve.

"You will surely lose yourself in the desert along with him. You have no choice but to come with me for the time being. Unless you wish to throw away my generosity and accomplish nothing out of your own accord?" he asked.

Grudgingly, Irelia turned her camel back around, head downcast to avoid the stares. Her anger abated, but it quickly turned into worry. "I can't just accept the fact that he's gone. It's not right. We were supposed to get to the bottom of this! We might've failed trying to take down the Institute by ourselves, but at least we'd have failed together at the hands of the things we were actually up against! He wasn't supposed to go out at the hands of some stupid skeletons."

"I do not understand your story," the emperor remarked as they arrived at the gates. "You'll have to let go of your emotions for a second so I can grasp your situation at the same level. But that can wait. I would not withhold you the honor of entering Shurima." With that, Azir raised a hand, signalling to the guardsmen atop the city wall that they were to draw back the gates and give passage to the small caravan which had taken in Irelia and Rammus, who had rolled alongside the camels the whole time. The procession walked forwards along the sandstone path into the recently revitalized city.

Despite her grief, Irelia couldn't help but look around at the majestic sights which filled the Capital. The architectural form of the buildings seemed to come from a similar style as the ones from Mount Targon, but they seemed older somehow, despite being newly resurrected. The roofs of every buildings shone with a golden tint, a disc of the sun planted atop them to symbolize their allegiance to Shurima. Closer to ground level, the straight path upon which they traversed was lined with palm trees, trunks curving ever so slightly and leafy fronts jutting forth from the tops, growing wildly without restraint. Some palms were so massive that they were able to provide shade along the path, shielding the caravan from the harsh light of the midday sun - even in winter, its power still radiated enough heat to cause people to dress lightly. Irelia could only imagine how magnified its strength would be in Shurima, the one civilization to truly harness its power.

The imperial palace stood elevated in the distance, a series of inner city walls creating rings on a hill-like structure where the political center of the Capital was undoubtedly located. Gradually the procession made its way through each checkpoint as the path slowly winded its way up, not going too steeply for ease of making the journey completely on camelback. Although the city definitely lived up to its fabled glory, Irelia noticed quite a strange thing absent in such a large expanse.

"There aren't a lot of people around, despite all these buildings," Irelia noted.

"You would be correct," Azir agreed. "My city has arisen from the sands, but I cannot bring my people back to life. The failed Ascension ritual was a devastating accident which took the lives of many, and is something I must live with for the rest of my new life."

The dejected tone of his voice softened her, as she could sympathize, knowing how it felt to experience the deaths of many of one's people. "But surely word spread quickly upon your return."

"All of Shurima has been abuzz with the talk of my return, but not many actually come to the Capital. They all have established communities within the desert, and the city has not been long standing to warrant a complete migration as of yet. It was a difficult process, I will admit, in assembling any amount of retainers to assist me in bringing my empire back to its true glory," the emperor related.

"Who are these men, then? How could you know who was truly loyal and who wasn't, when you had just re-entered this world?" Irelia wondered.

"Despite its unfortunate consequences," Azir told her, "Ascension is a powerful gift. I do not think you can grasp the fullness of power it gives me, but I can sense the intentions of those who came to me trying to curry favor. I was fortunate to know that my faithful warrior, Nasus, still lingered on this world amongst your League. He was an instrumental part in my efforts to rebuild, and he too judged the merits of these mortals who came to Shurima."

The emperor suddenly tensed, as if wanting to take back his words. "And I have my own questions for you. I do not understand why Jax and yourself chose to make such an undertaking like journeying into the desert. It is impossible that you would be sent on diplomatic purposes on behalf of Ionia, given your company… but I will refrain from further questioning until we actually enter the palace. It is only polite."

Irelia gave him a thin smile. "I assure you, my reasons are coming here are quite well-thought out."

Upon reaching the final gate preceding the palace proper, they came across a black-haired figure sitting on a bench just outside, idly polishing a chakram. She looked up at the clopping of the approaching camels, allowing Irelia to see her face.

"I suppose it's not too much of a surprise to see you here, Sivir," Irelia confronted her.

"Can't say the same for you," Sivir retorted. "Didn't think I'd see Ionia's poster girl getting her feet dirty out here." She turned to regard the other champion with them. "Hello, Rammus," she greeted him in a friendlier tone.

"Right."

Irelia's eyebrows lowered at her underhanded comment as her blades whirred to life behind her. "And what's that supposed to mean? Do you think I'm scared of the desert? You should be no stranger to knowing what the taste of these is like," she spat, indicating the blades which rose up around her threateningly.

"I know you can fight," the Battle Mistress responded. "So can Lux, but you wouldn't catch her dead out here. What could you possibly want from these old sands?"

"I was just about to tell Azir here once we got into the palace. Let's make it clear, though, that I'm not here for any personal gain," she said, a direct jab at the mercenary's love of gold. "I'm not like you."

"There's no need for the hostilities," Azir interrupted. "We'll discuss this civilly once we enter the palace."

"OK."

Settling upon having the last word in their little scuffle, Irelia sat back in her seat and followed the emperor's retainers into the inner palace as Sivir walked alongside Azir, making sure to keep out of earshot. There was a surprising amount of bad blood between the two women, despite little being on the surface to provide such animosity. Their little-known history together dated back to the post-war reconstruction era, where Irelia had lobbied throughout the Institute for some of the champions' help in rebuilding her homeland, a task quite a few of them accepted. When it came around to Sivir, however, she had pointedly refused the Ionian's petition because there was no incentive for her to make the trek over to the island to do so. Irelia had been furious, but Sivir had informed her, in a brutally honest way, that she was set on remaining neutral in the relations between the two city-states. Not going to aid the war effort on the side of Noxus should have been cause enough for thanks, but Irelia could never see the mercenary in the same light again. From her perspective, Sivir believed that most champions from the stable nations of Ionia and Demacia were stuck-up idealists who hadn't been fully exposed to reality, an outlook at which Irelia couldn't help but laugh at. Perhaps she was an idealist, but she definitely did not have a lack of experiencing harsh realities, if her involvement in the Noxian invasion and her own family's tragic history were any indication.

When they had reached the entrance of the Capital's palace, Irelia couldn't hold back a gasp. She had been to Demacia a couple of times, recalling the lavish front lawns which flanked its own royal palace and the towering spires which seemed to pierce the heavens themselves. The baroque style was perhaps a bit too extravagant for the swordswoman, who had grown up with the highest point on Runeterra for her being the tip of the clock tower at the Placidium.

On the other hand, the Shuriman royal palace combined the style of minimalism with just the right amount of ornate decorations to create a formidable dominion worthy of respect. Its towers did not reach nearly as high as their counterparts in Demacia, but the structure was not lacking in stature that it needed overly tall spires to compensate. The tympanon shone a faintly emerald hue, resting above a colonnade which sported twenty or so spiral pillars each decorated with various statuettes of animals. Eagles, lions, and crocodiles, among others, made up the stone animal population among the pillars, and they had been sculpted in a anthropomorphic style which made them almost human, similar to how Nasus and Renekton looked to her - moreso the former of the two brothers rather than the latter.

Perhaps the most curious part of the palace was the marble fountain placed in the middle of the courtyard, which was - apart from the walkways set around the perimeter - covered in sand rather than grass. A sculpture of a dolphin was set in the fountain, water coming forth from its stone mouth. The difference in style between the dolphin and the rest of the animals atop the columns of the palace entrance led Irelia to believe the fountain was a different commission, perhaps by a completely different artist.

Seeing her confused glance, Azir stopped to explain. "That was the result of losing a bet."

Irelia raised an eyebrow. "Gambling seems uncharacteristic of you, emperor," she commented, finally remembering her etiquette around royalty.

"When I was a new inductee into the League, I was still blinded by my pride. I believed myself superior to all of the other midlaners, because who could honestly stand up to the might of one truly Ascended? Only that dastardly mage, Xerath, could match my strength, but his power was stolen from me anyways, and I was confident I could defeat him. And indeed it did happen, but there are some out there in our League whose skills baffle my understandings. As much as I hate to admit it, the Tidal Trickster has one up on me," Azir lamented. "But I will not be ridiculed a second time by that infuriating fish."

Irelia could sympathize with the emperor's struggle. Fizz was the object of many love-hate relationships between summoners and fellow champions alike. His dexterity on the battlefield was unmatched, and his skill with his trident was equally formidable, resulting in him being one of the slipperiest champions to catch on the Fields. While Irelia never had much of a problem on the rare occasions that the fish did wander top lane, she knew his mobility would cause mid laners like Azir to tear their hair out as they tried in vain to land a shot on him. Oddly enough, Karma never vocalized a complaint against the aquatic assassin, but whether it was because she had a winning record against him or if it was just not in her personality, Irelia would never know.

At last, they were able to dismount from their camels and step through the double doors into a receiving room in the palace, brightly illuminated from the sun's rays shining through the large windows. The guards seemed to know what to do with Rammus, as a couple of them split from the main group to lead the armordillo into a separate part of the palace.

"Where are they taking him?" Irelia queried as she watched them disappear.

"Rammus prefers the royal gardens," Azir informed her. "We do not know what he sees in them, as they are quite barren in comparison to others, but I suppose the wild cacti please him. It was a trial and effort project when he first wandered his way in here." Citing a need to prepare refreshments for his guests, Azir made his temporary exit through a corridor on the side while telling them to make themselves at home, gesturing towards a couple of reclining sofas.

Sivir showed no qualms in setting her belongings down on the velvet carpet and resting along the sofa lengthwise, but Irelia, used to professional meetings in modern chairs where decorum was of the utmost importance, hesitated for a second. The mercenary noticed her uneasiness and scoffed.

"What's the matter, Ionian? Not used to our style of holding meetings?"

Irelia attempted to dismiss the accusation with a wave of her hand. "It's just… unusual to see."

"There's nothing strange in being comfortable," the mercenary continued to prod at her. "Don't they have litters like these in your high and mighty societies?"

"You'd be insane to travel around like that in Ionia," Irelia refuted. "There might be a couple of overweight Demacian nobles too lazy to walk around the city like everyone else, but we'd do nothing of the sort."

Azir had reentered the room, holding a tray with three glasses of iced water. "Do take a seat, Captain Lito." When Irelia was taken aback at the use of him addressing her by her title, he let out a low chuckle. "Do not think a thousand years has deprived me of being able to familiarize myself with the customs of the other city-states. Even though Ionia was not nearly as great as it is now during the first period of my reign, I have already learned a lot about your history during my stay at the Institute. I am well aware of your accomplishments during the Noxian invasion."

"I'm honored at your efforts at understanding us, emperor," Irelia replied evenly. "I must admit I haven't extended the same courtesy in learning your own customs," she added, pointing at the still unoccupied sofa next to her.

"Like Sivir has said, there is no shame in making yourself comfortable," Azir encouraged her. "I wish to extend my empire to the horizon, yes, but that doesn't mean I'm not concerned with treating those who visit my domain with the utmost respect in doing so."

"In that case, I might feel better if I could just sit in a normal chair," Irelia insisted.

"That is easily accommodated," the emperor replied as he signalled for a servant to bring in a 'northern chair,' as he called it. Within seconds a leather chair had been procured and placed at the table while Azir took the unoccupied sofa and reclined against it in a less than flattering pose.

"You can see why I had second thoughts about taking that seat," Irelia pointed out.

"That's preposterous," Azir answered. "I may demand people call me by my title, but after that, I do not consider myself greatly superior than any of the rest of you. I require respect but little else. But that is enough of me. You must finally entertain me with your tale and your journey."

Once again, this time barely withholding a sigh of weariness, Irelia once again spun the thread of her meeting with Jax and the subsequent chain of events as they traveled across the land in their attempts to uncover the methods the Institute was using to inflict harm against its own champions. Sivir listened with as much interest as the emperor, who maintained a stern look on his face although he was determined to catch every word.

When she was finished, Azir spoke up first, shifting slightly in his seat. "What is your take on her tale, Sivir?"

"I've believed worse. And those stories were also true," the mercenary shrugged as she took a swig of her water. "So what is it that you want from us?"

"I don't need anything from you," Irelia corrected, not too keen at the idea of working with the bounty hunter. "We just came here to let the emperor know he was likely to be under attack, but I was kind of counting on Jax to be here because he was the one who knew more about this whole than I do. I can do all I can to defend you alone, but from the stories I just told you, it's going to take a far more concentrated effort. And Jax was the one behind all the planning. All I want is him back." Her blades circled in the air as she expressed her frustration.

Azir had been sitting in silence, evaluating the situation, but finally came forth to re-enter the conversation. "Unfortunately, as believable as your story is, it does leave little concrete information as to what we should be looking out for. As for my own problems, I know for a fact that Xerath is out there, plotting away in the desert in attempt to overthrow me for a second time, and thus I have to use my own efforts in preparing against his campaign. It is regrettable that I cannot lend you any aid personally in finding the whereabouts of our grandmaster."

Irelia's fury was beginning to rise again at the emperor's lack of concern for her friend who would have so much of a role in giving a hand to him, not just only against the creatures of the Institute but also against any aggression Xerath would have. She refused to let Azir write Jax off like that, as just a missing casualty to the shifting sands.

"That's all you have to say?" she yelled, her blades all rising and pointing at the emperor, who quickly sat up in defense, taking hold of his staff. "He's probably the one person you would need to get you out of this mess and you're just going to leave him for dead out there? You said out there that I had no chance to find him by myself, and now that you've brought me into your palace, you're just going to say the same thing? I would have been better off dead in the desert looking for him than staying safe in this palace of yours, laying around on these stupid sofas as he gets buried alive out there by who knows what!"

"Watch your temper, Will of the Blades," Azir spoke slowly. "Know your place -"

"You should know your place, Your Majesty," Irelia spat as vehemently as she could. "For all that time you spent learning about my culture and all that I hold dear, you refuse to respect it and just leave me empty-handed."

Sivir had remained sitting down on her sofa, her gaze switching between the two champions arguing. At least she had the sense to remain quiet rather than add any unnecessary fuel to the fire. After a tense few seconds, Azir spoke again.

"You will apologize to the emperor," he grit out every word with deliberation, "or you will leave."

Irelia looked Azir right in the eyes, almost challenging him to do something about it if she defied his orders. Then, deciding against spending another second with that fraud who called himself a ruler, she stormed out of the palace.

* * *

**A/N: **bit of a long update, but I'm pretty satisfied about this chapter. Irelia finally has more of a personality that it seems like I've written her and Jax fails at something for once. Battle scenes are getting pretty repetitive, I will admit, so I had to find some other way to cause drama.

The next few chapters should be fairly interactive as I find a way to get Renekton and Xerath involved in all of this. Stay tuned!


	17. The Dereliction

A sandy grave was not the benediction Ezreal was looking for.

There was little one could do to sway the ways of a raving crocodile, but he knew he stood no chance at attempting to best Renekton in combat as well, especially if he had the help of Xerath. The magus had not been sighted in the tomb as of yet, but where the former Shuriman hero was, Ezreal had little doubt that Xerath would be nearby. His presence might not prove to be a bad thing, however - the explorer realized that bringing the mage to reason would be easier than talking the matter over with Renekton. The only major obstacle would be Xerath's pride, which he would have to stomach if he were to treat the threat of the Institute coming after him seriously.

"Don't worry, Ezreal," came Janna's reassuring voice from beside him as she raised her staff protectively. "We'll protect you."

The Voidreaver scoffed. "A charming sentiment. You will not get out of this without taking a few scratches, however. I'm sure of that," he said, brandishing his claws and preparing to enter combat.

Renekton snarled, blade in hand and ready to pounce onto the travellers at any given moment. Ezreal readied his gauntlet, knees slightly bent so as to be ready to evade any sudden lunges. However, a new presence in the tomb seemed to halt his advance. Ezreal noticed the shadows dancing on the walls dissipate to give way to an artificial lighting, caused by the electrical surges of a strangely constructed figure.

"Lay down your weapons," a booming voice commanded. "There is no need to settle this like barbarians." The reverberations rebounded off the walls, filling the chamber with the sound and causing Ezreal's body to shudder slightly upon hearing it.

The order seemed to quell the butcher's fury, although he had some reservations with himself as he regressed into his natural form and size. Now with Renekton's figure not obstructing the entirety of the tomb, Ezreal and the rest of the party could finally cast their eyes on the ascended form of Xerath, a vaguely humanoid sky blue form encased in the wreckage of an ancient iron sarcophagus which now merely served to give him his form just as a pitcher gives the water inside it shape.

The former acolyte floated in the air about seven feet off the ground, making it so the lowest part of his body still towered over the group's heads. Ezreal knew it was little more than for effect, as he had discovered through his many adventures how ancient kings, not just in Shurima, but all over Valoran, would erect enormous chairs with the seat so highly placed so as to intimidate people who approached their throne in an attempt to make them more suppliant to whatever they commanded.

Xerath examined the odd collection of champions standing before him, the light within the confines glowing a little lighter, as if he was expressing curiosity. "What business do you seek from me? There is no way you have wandered into these ruins accidentally."

The women were looking to Ezreal for an answer, and a quick glance at Kha'Zix revealed that he was giving the role of spokesperson to him, so he locked his jaw and began to respond. "We've come here as allies. There's some really shifty actions going on beneath the surface here in Shurima and we have reason to believe you're in grave danger. The Institute is sending its agents to take your powers."

The magus tilted his body slightly towards Ezreal, considering the gravity of the words he just uttered, before beginning to slightly quiver as sounds which seemed to be laughter began to emanate from the form of pure energy.

"Is this your idea of a threat, explorer? What possible combination of events would result in a being more powerful than I, the ultimate Ascended, daring to come onto these lands and challenge me? The only being who could dare to lift a candle to me is that figurehead emperor who only walks the sands today due to a miracle! I have achieved this power completely on my own, and none will even think of snatching it away from me!" Xerath roared.

Ezreal groaned. Now was not the time to keep up appearances to maintain one's internal pride. "Listen, you're going to need to hear us out at least this once. Later you can choose to ignore me, but I'm not going to let you say that I didn't warn you. These things have been attacking all kinds of champions within the League, even those who we thought were far too powerful to be affected by them. They can take on several of us, for that matter!"

Xerath seemed to have calmed down. "All I hear from your mouth are the worlds from a children's fairytale. Despite this… I suppose I can listen. It should be amusing, if nothing else. No violence should be necessary here, Renekton," he commanded to the crocodile, who lowered his weapon and dropped to the floor as a dog obeys the call of his master.

Ezreal began to give his interpretation of how the story so far went, with slight mental corrections given by Sona and occasional addendums by Janna, both of whom had been involved with the investigation longer than he had. His secondhand words wouldn't come close to the descriptions Jax or Irelia would be able to give, but he hoped that he could get the message across simply enough. Kha'Zix had not heard the entirety of the story from their perspective, having only been aware of the information that the Prophet relayed to him, and listened attentively at their side, digesting the change in his knowledge like the carcass of a wild animal he would have for supper.

When Ezreal finished, he took a deep breath, downing a couple of gulps of water from his canteen before returning his gaze to Xerath, waiting for the magus' response. True to his upbringing, first as a slave who awaited the orders of his master, to a student who awaited the instructions of his teacher, Xerath did not interrupt the continuous flow of the story, venturing to speak only when Ezreal indicated that he was finished.

"Your story is quite thorough for it to be artificially manufactured," Xerath noted, "secondhand though it was. And yet…" his metallic voice trailed off, holding Ezreal and the supports in suspense as they were wondering if Xerath would accept their tale as a likely chain of events.

"I cannot perceive these beasts as a true threat to my power," Xerath haughtily claimed. 'It seems that despite their numerous encounters with these types of creatures, neither Jax nor Irelia has been able to ascertain more of their nature than they knew at the very beginning. Not only do these creatures seem underwhelming, but they are too much of an enigma for me to comment on any distinct quality they possess with any interest. For instance, the siphoning of energy is hardly a new concept to a wisdom as ancient as mine. You may see that Dark Sovereign as a dangerous woman who has the potential for great destruction, but in my eyes she is little more than a girl who cannot control a power accidentally bestowed upon her. All that loose energy was just begging to leak out of her body at the slightest provocation," he explained.

"Then explain why that thing did what it did to Sona!" Ezreal demanded, gesturing at the maven, who stepped back a little, not expecting Ezreal's sudden shift in protectiveness. "Surely she's not at all like Syndra. Maybe the Institute wanted to drain the excess energy from mages, but she can't be on the same level as some power-hungry freak like that! What can you say to that?"

"You are mistaken, explorer," the magus calmly responded. "Every mage shares something in common with every other. It is such a fundamental part of us all, in fact, that I am surprised you did not immediately catch onto the connection between these creatures siphoning energy and the targets being mages."

"Don't be coy with me, Xerath. Tell us what you mean!" Ezreal continued, not at all pleased to be walking through his hoops.

"It looks like I'll have to spell it out to you," Xerath sighed - if alchemic constructs could project such emotion - and extended an arm out, releasing a small bit of energy from within his veins and molding it into a sphere which floated several inches above his arm. "I trust you recognize this form.'

Ezreal nodded, noting the resemblance in lucidity to that man-made container he sometimes picked up on the Fields, the Tear of the Goddess. That meant the substance Xerath conjured up had to be one thing. "Mana, in its purest form."

"Indeed. Because of my primordial appearance, I require little effort to separate its vitality from my own person. While you made of flesh shall have mana residing within your bloodstream, I have no such difficulty. As such, I am able to use larger quantities of mana than the normal spellcaster, and the residual effects naturally return to my being, allowing me to regenerate it quicker as well.

"The act of siphoning energy alters the maximum amount of mana which resides in a mage's body. To do so requires a fairly large mana pool by the caster, so performing the task is both very difficult and rare to see. I have not seen the maneuver done in this modern age, but before my Ascension, it used to be a punishment given by Shurima's most powerful mages against the most heinous of criminals… the traitors.

"As you can tell, siphoning has drastic side effects, not the least being a permanent reduction of one's powers. Depending on the depth of the draining, it may also take a toll on the mage's appearance and physical strength. I never had the misfortune of seeing a siphoning so grave so as to cut the person's life span itself, but it is certainly within magical boundaries."

Ezreal could only gape in terror at Xerath's explanation. "So these things could actually kill us if they were strong enough?" From Jax and Irelia's reports, it seemed that the beings they had already encountered were some of the weaker of the bunch. If the mages already attacked had suffered serious injuries to their magic as is, he didn't want to know the after effects of more powerful creatures attacking them.

"Indeed," the magus replied emotionlessly. "To finally come back to my point, these creatures are able to absorb the mana of the mages of the League, yes. Yet I have reached a point of power where the internal font of my mana is inseparable from my very being. You cannot draw it out of its construct with even the most powerful siphoning. Thus, what do I have to fear from the mongrels the Institute sends out in their attempts to weaken me?"

"You're not getting it!" Ezreal cried out, frustrated at the magus' hubris. "You're not seeing the whole picture. It's not just the mages that are being targeted. In fact, the reason why we're in Shurima is because of a specific attack on Vi, one of the least magical champions I can think of!" Opening his satchel, he drew out the pictures of the aftermath of the explosion which injured the enforcer and began to hand them to Xerath, unsure on how the magus would receive it. He felt the pictures telekinetically pulled from his hand and drawn into the core of Xerath's plasma. His mouth fell wide open as he witnessed the paper disintegrate, but the magus did not seem to pay attention to the explorer's reaction as he floated there in silence for a few seconds.

"I need only to make contact with any sort of tome in order to absorb all of its contents," Xerath explained. "Ah, these burn marks are quite intriguing. I can see a pattern form… the shape of a scarab? I assume this symbol of death is what brought you to the desert."

Ezreal nodded. "One of these creatures is likely in Shurima. There wasn't any other reason for a champion from Piltover to be attacked, for as far as I can tell, there's no qualms between these two city-states. When you add the fact that Vi was one of the more popular champions as of recent days…"

"Then you are merely grasping at straws," the magus refuted. "I must concede that I would have no idea as any person in Shurima who would go to such lengths to send such a message, but this hardly constitutes the existence of some mysterious beast of the sands lurking around waiting to ambush me when my guard is down. Besides," Xerath continued, "you are assuming I am their next target? There are quite a few champions with ties to this region. Even that idealistic fool, Azir, would be a more prominent target for any madman. Weaker and more vulnerable."

"That's why we have two groups," Ezreal replied. "Half of us went towards the Capital to warn the emperor -" Ezreal was interrupted by a sudden blast of lightning shocking the ground not a foot to the left of him, and leapt back instinctively. "What was that for?"

"Do not deign to give such a title to that foolish boy!" Xerath warned, limbs crackling with electricity. "There is nothing about him that even remotely conveys royalty."

You Shurimans and your big heads, Ezreal thought to himself. "Fine, fine. Half of us went to warn Azir about a likely attack, and the other half is here. You two are the most likely targets, considering how prominent your names are in Shurima. You are both champions who have done very well recently, which makes you prime targets for the Institute to, well, 'adjust.'"

"Again, this assumes that there is an agency out there that will go after me with something other than useless siphoning creatures. In all your group's encounters, the only creatures you've ran into have only expressed sizable siphoning powers. Nothing they possess is not easily stopped by more conventional powers, provided one is able to utilize their magic to halt attacks," Xerath said defiantly.

"Not the Dreadnaught back in Piltover," Janna stepped in to correct the magus. "All it did was fight Jax with its own weapon. No draining things from it that I can remember."

"It also enlarged its size when pushed into a corner, did it not?" Xerath pressed on. "The grandmaster and you must have felt exhausted as you battled the brute. It is merely another form of siphoning energy, but this Dreadnaught character must have been versed with the physical manifestation of siphoning, being able to draw out an enemy's strength and add it to his own. It is more difficult than a mana siphon, as it directly targets the vital system of another human. But look at me! I do not require any organic composition to operate, so there is no way a corporeal siphoner could pose a threat to me either. Now do you see? I am at absolutely no risk of losing anything."

Despite his infuriating smugness, Ezreal couldn't help but note that Xerath did have most of his bases covered. He had not come across any of the Institute's lapdogs himself, so he did not know if Xerath's evaluations were accurate.

_You don't understand that feeling when they come for you_, Sona interjected. _And neither does Xerath. It's not as simple as some process where they take your energy. He may be correct in figuring out their exact methods, but the creatures are far more terrifying than that. They tamper with your perceptions, make you experience fear itself. But it's no use. He's caught up in that big head of his that he's invincible. We'll just have to help him ourselves when the time comes._

Ezreal was impressed by the maven's compassion, even when she sounded angry at Xerath for not understanding the gravity of their situation. Empaths really did have a heart of gold. Ascended beings, however, seemed to have hearts of pure diamond. "Well, you can sit comfortably in your little tomb of yours, but when there's an attack coming for you, it's going to find a way to strike you where you're weak. And we're not going to just let that happen, so we're hanging around whether you like it or not."

"So be it. You will be yet more witnesses to my glory when - if! - anything comes to challenge my authority. Not to mention I have the help of a mighty Shuriman warrior. Isn't that right, Renekton?"

The crocodile snarled, showing displeasure at being treated like a pet, but couldn't convey any more resistance. "Of course, Xerath.'

"Magus," spoke Kha'Zix, his first words in a while. He had been lounging in a corner of the tomb, watching the back-and-forth verbal battle between Xerath and Ezreal and not once raising a claw to either, to his credit. There were other ways to adapt, and by watching the boastful nature of the magus come to total fruition, the bug would subsequently know his weak spots by scrutinizing his strengths.

"What is it, Voidreaver?" Xerath wanted to know.

"You should hope indeed not to succumb to this test," Kha'Zix spoke ominously. "Know that defeat in this case is a sign of complete and utter weakness. And I will be here to collect the spoils should you dare fall in battle. If, on the contrary, you emerge triumphant… you will be only the more appetizing to devour in the future."

"You seek to humor me as well, bug," Xerath observed. "Not only do you consider the possibility of me falling to those mongrels, but you also entertain the chance that you could take me down yourself."

"Nothing has escaped me yet," the hunter bragged. "Even that wretched beast, Rengar, shall not escape me forever. And neither shall you."

"And what of your entourage?" Xerath queried. "Surely a prospect of not one, not two, but three champions of the League would be too tempting for you to just jump them in the middle of this forbidding desert and take them for your own prey."

"I may be ambitious, but I am not stupid, magus," Kha'Zix responded. "These three understand the greater danger which lies around us, the one true enemy according to the prophet. It is in your best interests to take their advice to heart - not that you have one left in that maelstrom of chaos you call a vessel."

"And I would never have thought you, solitary hunter, to align yourself with the common folk," Xerath lamented mockingly. "Have you grown so soft that you require the help of others to catch your prey?"

"I have nothing more to say to you, _Ascended_," the bug spat in his most mocking voice, which Ezreal couldn't help but give points for; the Void hunter was doing his best to show his understanding of sarcasm, but perhaps another few more successful ganks on Katarina would solidify it.

"Then I will take the last word and promise to you that when I emerge unscathed out of any attack this Institute tries on me, you will be the one to feel my wrath," the magus swore.

IF Kha'Zix wanted to respond one last time, he wouldn't get the chance. The rumbling of the tomb walls brought the sardonic exchange of wits to an end as each individual sprung into action: Ezreal turning his head every which way in an attempt to locate the focal point of the shaking, all the while changing the settings of his gauntlet; Janna hovering behind him instinctively, staff at the ready to lend aid to her carry; Sona clinging to her etwahl, as if letting go would make her lose it again; Kha'Zix scanning his surroundings repeatedly, looking for the best location to hide in as he prepared a plan for attack; Renekton getting up to his feet and swinging his blade wildly, daring the walls to continue; and the Magus Ascendant extending his limbs to assume his fully-sized form, beginning to form a lightning bolt between his two hands, ready to incinerate anything unlucky enough to fall into its path.

"Are you finally starting to see it our way?" Ezreal asked of Xerath.

"Quit your nonsense, child," Xerath scolded. "On the contrary, you will finally get to see my true powers in action."

The combined forces, led by Renekton, made their way up the stairs of the tomb into the open desert, greeted by an indigo night sky and the makings of a vicious sandstorm. Yet something seemed off - the dust was confined to a specific area, a circumference surrounding them.

"Our enemy is seeking the cover of the desert," Kha'Zix pointed out. "In this way, we know neither its identity nor its numbers."

"The demons of the darkness are easily vanquished," Xerath boomed, preparing to unleash a beam which would vaporize anything in its path. "Let there be light!"

* * *

It must have been the twelfth time he came to the three-pronged path. Sometimes Shaco, or perhaps it was his clone, would take one direction and he would follow it. Other times the jester would just disappear and he was left with his instincts to venture in blind. And the worst parts where his guide would behave in such a way that Zed just knew that the only way to progress was to continue walking in the very opposite way that the maniacal clown had gone, even if that meant turning around completely and going back the way he came. It seemed that every time he reached a new intersection the maze would have changed accordingly, anyways.

The first few minutes were fairly nondescript, with nothing but white borders on the walls to separate them from the floor. In the natural darkness, Zed's well-trained eyes could only barely make out the outline of Shaco's form. The ceiling was nowhere to be found.

As time progressed, in such a convoluted way that Zed wasn't quite sure if he was still travelling linearly, he started to notice two things. One, the maze was getting slightly brighter. Two, the subsequent light allowed Zed to notice that the walls had began to adorn decorations, a catalogue which he did not appreciate at all. The additions started off fairly tame: the masks of comedy and tragedy, bearing faces which took on very, very lifelike expressions. The ninja refused to look at the faces any longer than he had to, so he never noticed that as he continued walking, the faces became increasingly contorted. Those smiles should never have been that wide, and those tragic masks weren't just crying. They were legitimately screaming, silent shrieks which begged for a salvation from this labyrinth of nightmares.

To someone who appreciated a good mask, the sight was both horrifying and barely manageable for Zed, as he was used to the presence of many artificial faces around him. Yet their gazes were all trained on him, and not in the way that the disciples of his Order of the Shadow looked when they all watched him, awaiting their next orders. These showed no sign of submissiveness and were either countenances of sadism or torture. He thought he would be glad to finally throw those prying looks off his back, but what came next was far, far worse.

More unnerving than seeing other faces looking at you was finding your own reflection meeting you. Once again, it wasn't that Zed was completely inexperienced in dealing with these psychological attacks. He was the one who owned a shadow with which he could trade places, attack enemies, and move through obstructions. Another him was firmly under his control, and he took in the reassurance knowing that any encounter one on one was something that those numbers belied.

How could mirrors instill such terror within him? There were no tricks played on him, which was quite uncharacteristic of Shaco. Zed saw his genuine reflection in them, the panels of glass extending completely down the walls of the never-ending corridors. The way the mirrors reflected off each other, making Zed see himself and his reflections an infinite amount of times when he looked into one mirror, was the one thing absolutely disconcerting. So he could take on one of him, maybe two, if he was securing a kill with his Death Mark. A thousand was far too much than Zed was expecting, or ever wanted to experience. The way they mimicked his every move, the way he saw his own uncertainty reflected back at him, the way his steps showed a distinct lack of security, unnerved him many times over than his own anxiety could.

It wasn't any help that he would never see Shaco's reflection in the mirror.

He dared not speak a word to the jester who seemed to be having the most splendid time serving as his 'guide.' Shaco was actually more than happy to talk enough for the two of them as he cackled and strutted down the narrow hallways, conversing about every possible subject and nothing at all.

"Ionia is a nice place, is it not? I do regret that I haven't spent much time there. The cherry blossoms approaching their peak beauty in the spring, the thawing of the waterfalls, the symphony of animals chirping and squeaking in every nook and cranny. Absolutely horrifying! I don't blame you for looking into that box, no, not at all. I always did think that a little bit of shadow made someone a little better.

"I do remember one particular view from a little hidey-hole I was in, near the Placidium. My, my, to say that view was anything short of breathtaking would be a travesty. I could see all the way through the valley, even to the ocean if I squinted hard enough. What a glorious sight! And every inch covered in the smoke and flames the Noxian war machines brought to your precious homeland.

"Crazy is such a subjective term, don't you think? It seems every time it's brought up, it wants to describe something completely different. They used to call me crazy, at least, before they found a knife in their throats. Nowadays, they're scrambling over themselves to think of stranger and stranger words to call chaos. Maddening, psychotic, devilish. My favorite has to be pandemonium. Well, it's not quite an adjective, but it's getting there. After all, grammar is just a social construct, isn't it?"

He had repeatedly thanked his former Kinkou training for the discipline and the self-restraint he somehow found in the inner recesses of his soul to not lose focus of which path he should take, which he would take, and which he had taken. All the while refusing to acknowledge the jester's presence by uttering a single word to him. Zed was sure there would be little harm itself in actually giving responses to the madman's ravings, but he wasn't afraid of the result on the surface. He was wary of the long-term.

At the thirteenth crossroads, after his last, agonizing pick down the middle of the path, Shaco turned around to look at him, a sudden gesture which nearly caused Zed to fall backwards in surprise. The eyelid-less mask, the mismatched garments, the cracked, toothy smile all accentuated the horror which was making its residence in the corridors of the Zeta Maze. Gathering all his fortitude, he looked the demon right in the eyes (as well as he could) and waited for another action.

"What good luck! Or was it skill that let you choose all the right ways through the maze? Ah, whatever it was, I am sad to say that our fun ends here. Yes, this means I won't be here any longer to guide you. Believe me, I'm going to miss it almost as much as you. But never fret, I, in my magnanimity, would never let you walk alone without another splendid guide giving you the joy of companionship every step of the way. I leave him in your hands, dear!"

And once again, he disappeared as suddenly as he had materialized. In his place, Zed could only hear the mischievous laughter of a woman somewhere behind him. He'd heard those giggles on the Rift in the worst places to come across someone.

"I'm so glad you could make it here, handsome," she cooed. "Your pain is my pleasure."

* * *

A whisper ran through the night, and a hundred voices responded in kind. A spark ran through the blight, and a hundred soldiers, in front and behind.

Ezreal wasn't sure what he was to expect. From the descriptions Janna and Sona had given, the Institute's monsters were generally black, with features hidden to the eye due to their dark covering. Yet the sight Ezreal beheld was completely the opposite.

A whole army greeted their exit out of the tomb, not at all pleased that their sandstorm cover had been breached. Their golden armor reflected off the light which Xerath used to cast off their shrouds, causing the illusion that it was the middle of the day. So bright was the glow that Ezreal was forced to cover up an eye with his hand so as to not become blinded by the resplendence.

"Sand soldiers?" Xerath bellowed. "What is the meaning of this?"

Ezreal adjusted his hand just enough to actually look at the shining figures all around him. They did seem to resemble the soldiers Azir would summon on the Fields of Justice to aid him in combat, but were a lot brighter this time where Azir's army would retain some dust from their time in the sand. Perhaps they took on this appearance as they were closer to Shurima, their source of power? Whatever it was, he was quite confused if they were actually being invaded by the emperor.

"You see? It is nothing but the false ruler hoping to catch me off guard with these tales of creatures from the Institute!" Xerath turned his attention towards Ezreal, another bolt of lightning quickly forming in his hands. "And you, double agent, shall pay for your attempts at trickery!" The bolt complete, the magus loosed its power in an arc towards the explorer, who managed to shift away using his gauntlet.

"It's not like that, Xerath! We haven't even been in contact with Azir! There's no way we could've arranged something like this!" The army was beginning to converge in on the obelisk. "Hey! We're not the enemy! We're champions of the League too! Spare us!" All he received were blank stares as the soldiers continued their march, putting one foot in front of another.

"Violence is once again the only answer, explorer," Kha'Zix stated.

"You see! He admit his traitorous deeds!" Xerath roared, voice laden with fury. "It looks like we are once again alone, my friend. But we shall prevail!" Beside him, Renekton growled in defiance as Xerath floated up to the top of the obelisk, channeling a transformation into his true Ascended form.

"I will never concede the power I have taken!".

* * *

**A/N: **A super late update, even if I did update Cascade a week and a half ago. I was hard pressed for motivation to write this and I was watching anime for a good deal of my free time. (you might notice some slight inspiration from Fate/Zero)

And yes, nothing really actually happened and they were left in basically the same situation as last Ezreal chapter, but I swear there was a point to this. You'll see... just in the next two chapters.

Lastly, if anyone hasn't seen the new Irelia skin's splash art go check it out, it's fantastic and it's giving me inspiration for my next Irelia chapter, so hopefully it won't take as long as this update.


	18. The Deconstruction of Creation, Part 1

Madness was like the wind. None could truly understand its form, but everyone could see the devastating effects it presented upon its targets.

Many a time had Irelia encountered the rage of the Freljordian ruler, Tryndamere, on the Fields of Justice. None would deny that he was a terror to behold when the spirit of battle consumed him, often seen cutting a bloody swath through a battlefield using his enemies' blood to paint his wretched canvas. In the more controlled environment within the Institute, however, the barbarian's fury was somewhat stifled, his destruction only able to be focused on monsters, turrets, and the opposing champions. His bloodlust, normally a switch turned on for an entire battle, was scaled down sizably in matches on the Fields to a mere five seconds, which gave a coordinated enemy team of champions ample time to play around it rather than all succumb to the terror of Tryndamere's blade.

Despite his undying rage being majorly pacified, Irelia never noticed the flame in the warrior's eyes grow any dimmer. He would charge into close quarters with his enemy and compel them to either look him in the eyes and fight back or turn tail and flee - and the latter was never an option for Irelia. Thus she would often gaze into those emblazoned orbs and watch the flame tails dance in those irises. Within them she could perceive true emotion, a perfect specimen of some of the most absolute emotions which gripped the human psyche. Those who did not understand what it meant to be an enraged warrior on the battlefield thought that fury bred confusion. Irelia knew it was rather the opposite. Anger was clarity. It lit the way one should take, the shortest path to reach their goals. The blades were right at her side to will her down a certain direction, and she did not question them.

The aftermath was the disorienting part. When she finally calmed down, Irelia was surprised to find herself at the entrance to the royal gardens, a surprisingly green alcove within the palace with a sizable pool of water in the middle, its circumference decorated with various plants of the desert. In the distance she could pick out Rammus whose interest was currently preoccupied with a particularly fascinating piece of cacti.

"May I be of service, Master Lito?" a polite voice inquired from behind her.

Irelia spun around, both surprised at the presence and the words which they used. She found a man, probably in his early thirties, who appeared to be a butler, although she couldn't tell with the strange Shuriman garments which he wore. It was probably a cultural difference there, as Ionia with its forests and rivers was a far cry from the barren panorama of the desert. The butler had short dark hair and olive skin, indicating his native heritage beneath the ever-present sun.

"Master Lito was my father. I am nowhere deserving of that title," Irelia informed him. "Please just call me Irelia."

"Very well." The man bowed. "My name is Eliezar, and I am the steward of the emperor. Being that you and the armordillo are champions of the League, you are distinguished guests in His Majesty's household, and I shall be here to provide any convenience I can to ensure you enjoy your stay here." His mastery of the Common Tongue was impressive, showing less of an accent than most of the people that she had heard speak, even the emperor. However, that was probably to be expected of Azir, as a couple millennia locked away in a tomb probably did not bode well for one's linguistic skills.

"Eliezar," the Ionian repeated. It looked like the steward was not aware of her little fallout with the emperor, but now that she had cooled off, she regretted her outburst. If Irelia was to get back on speaking terms with the emperor, she wasn't sure if talking to his steward would be a good or bad idea. "I suppose I am in a bit of a sticky situation here," she admitted, keeping her words ambiguous.

The Shuriman eyed Irelia's figure carefully before uttering a response. "You must be exhausted after travelling the whole day in the desert, and your clothes are covered in sand and dust. Perhaps you would like the use of one of the bathhouses?"

It definitely wasn't the offer she expected, but looking down at her own attire and realizing the truth of Eliezar's words, she judged that it wouldn't be the worst decision. "I would be grateful," she admitted.

"Excellent," Eliezar said, pointing down a winding path which curved behind the edge of the building. "At the end of that walkway you will find the bathhouses - you may use any that you desire. They are already outfitted with towels and bathrobes; as for a change in clothes, I'm afraid that is not my area of expertise. However, I will notify the maids and they should provide you an adequate replacement wardrobe. I can only hope you can stomach the latest Shuriman fashions," he added with a smirk.

"That is more than enough, Eliezar," Irelia insisted, very impressed at this servant's propriety. She had encountered well-groomed butlers and the like during a trip to the Crownguard residence a few years ago, but she had never felt a servant's sincerity come out through their words as she did with this steward. Irelia wondered where Azir had acquired such a find.

"Very well, Irelia. I shall leave you to your devices," the steward said, bowing once more. "If I may say one more thing… it is 'ell-lee-ay,' rather than 'ell-yay,' as you have been pronouncing."

The servant even had the nerve to call her out on her incorrect pronunciation, which was actually a relief to Irelia. It showed her that he was not just an automaton, assigned to merely serve and please guests, but also had a mind of his own to entertain. "Ah, my apologies. Eliezar. Is that better?"

"You are getting there, Irelia," he told her, a toothless smile appearing on his lips. "Now, if you'll excuse me…"

With his departure, Irelia followed the instructions he had given and found the arrangements just as he had said. Eager to slip out of the now-obsolete clothes, which had begun to stick to her skin, she let out a sigh of relief as she slipped into the bath, sinking down up to her neck and feeling the water wash away all the dirt and grime off her body. An assortment of soaps lay at her disposal, along with with a surprisingly vast array of perfumes. Irelia found the native sunflower and marigold fragrances quite endearing, but was most surprised by the inclusion of a vial of lotus, originally a plant endemic to Ionia, though domesticated in very few places on the mainland. Azir's connections during the short time since his revival had to have spread very far.

Donning a towel after feeling much refreshed from the bath, Irelia was saved from the puzzle of trying to figure out how to acquire her change of clothes without drawing the attention of her dripping figure cloaked in nothing but a bathrobe when she heard a couple of knocks on the bathhouse door.

"Miss Lito?" came a female voice, laced in a Shuriman accent stronger than Eliezar's. "When you are finished, your clothes will be on the shelf." There was a flap within the wall where a bundle of clothes was deposited as the unseen maidservant made the exchange.

"Thank you," Irelia called out. "It is greatly appreciated."

"We hope the measurements were not too inaccurate," the maid said. "We could divine your height well enough as you walked by, but we could not be so precise with some of your more… personal measurements."

"Don't trouble your mind over it," the Ionian reassured her. "I'm already more than grateful."

Once she had thoroughly dried herself, she held up the clothing to fully examine it. It seemed more Ionian than Shuriman, although the golden bracers meant to adorn her arms were definitely part of the desert culture. She raised an eyebrow at the lavender, low-cut bodice, but harbored a more neutral expression at the tight blue-green shorts. They were more practical if she ever had to get into some conflict in her attire, which was the focal point of Irelia's entire wardrobe choice. The clothes seemed to fit her well enough, although she felt some odd looseness around her chest - evidently the top was meant for a larger endowed woman. Silently berating the Shurimans for their attention to detail, she made her way back to the gardens where she found the steward once more, who despite his attempts at maintaining decorum, was slightly shifting his weight between each foot impatiently and fidgeting with his collar until he caught sight of her.

"Irelia!" Eliezar called out urgently. "We must set out at once! The emperor is summoning all his forces to meet the enemy in the desert!"

She crossed her arms, not looking forward to a return meeting with Azir. "And I am not affiliated with Shurima. I did not come to the Capital for a diplomatic favor, and I have no obligation to provide military aid to help the emperor's domestic affairs."

The steward persisted, his eyes pleading her to reconsider. "But I am not asking you only as a servant of Shurima. I ask that I can rely on you as a person to right the injustices threatening our very welfare. If it is indeed an invasion orchestrated by Xerath, we will not be the aggressors. We would only ask that you help protect the emperor. However, other attacks by rogue forces against the empire will not be tolerated, and I am sure you would be willing to assist us in such matters"

Irelia couldn't help but admire his steady gaze. There was no time to hold silly childish grudges. She was here to make sure the emperor wouldn't be overtaken by the Institute's dogs of war, and if there was an attack that she let go unchecked, Jax would never hear the end of it.

If he was around to see it. Irelia swatted the negative thought out of her mind. _He has to be out there somewhere. He wouldn't just leave me like this._

"Very well. If I can rely on you, Eliezar, it would be foolish of me to not return my gratitude," she answered. Brightening up, the steward hurriedly made his way to a small, two-person chariot waiting outside the gardens and climbed up, taking the reins in hand. "Armordillo! Would you be so kind as to aid us in the coming battle?" he called out to Rammus.

"OK." The shell whirred to life, rolling itself out of the garden as Irelia got into the passenger side of the chariot. With an encouraging shout at the horses driving them, Eliezar drove them out a side exit and into the streets of the Capital, the armordillo rolling close behind them.

* * *

What the revitalized platoon of the sands lacked in numbers they more than made up for in sheer determination to succeed. Thousands of years did not seem to cause them to forget their formations as Irelia could see several squadrons within the mass of soldiers operate together to create an imposing wall which separated the emperor from any danger he may run across as they marched across the desert. To Azir's left and right were two groups of cavalry made up of five men each which served as a personal guard for the emperor should things fall out of the army's hands (although Azir was confident enough that nothing in the desert would prove to be a challenge difficult enough to bypass his soldiers). Bringing up the back were Eliezar and a couple of other personal servants to the emperor, who would only act as a last resort but otherwise remain next to the emperor at all times. Irelia wasn't too happy with such an arrangement, as she still harbored grudging emotions towards Azir, and although she was more than content to position herself closer to the front of the army in hopes of catching some of the action, Eliezar had warned her not to wander far away from the emperor unless the situation of battle called for it.

"You two may have gotten into a bit of a disagreement," the steward told her as she scoffed at his poor estimate of the rift between them, "but Azir is not one to slouch on his custodial duties of keeping his guests safe. It is unforgivable in our culture for a guest of the house to find herself in any danger so long as she stays under our roof, and as far as we are concerned, you have not left our hospitality."

"I am sure you all are already aware of my capabilities on the battlefield," Irelia responded testily. "I understand that your customs may differ than mine, but an Ionian shall never be content to sit back and wait around while her comrades in arms are out there on the battlefield bringing their steel to the enemy."

"As you said yourself, my lady," Eliezar interjected, "you are not directly associated with our empire. At the very least, you must be willing to let the emperor's soldiers charge into battle to draw glory for their houses and their families. It is, after all, primarily a Shuriman affair, and you do not need to trouble yourself with such a triviality."

"Then you should remember your own words as well, steward," Irelia countered, "and realize that when I will take up my sword in this battle, you will see me fight as myself, and not an embodiment of Ionia. Of course, all I do is to ensure that I carry out the ideology of my homeland, but I am my own woman when it comes down to it, and these men are fighting as individuals in their own right. When you go out there to seek glory, the storytellers will remember you for being you, and not to whichever king or emperor you were sworn to."

"I would not dare step between you and your passion for battle, but since it is our duty to ensure it, allow us to extend our protection. You need not throw your neck out into the fray and be unnecessarily injured," the steward profusely offered.

Irelia couldn't help but smile at the man's constant focus on maintaining chivalry to the very end and concerning himself with her well-being, and she being a foreigner at that. "Remember, I am not a child to be coddled until it is right to step outside and face the world. I have already shouldered that burden several times. You should trust that I am capable of fending for myself."

Eliezar seemed to understand, bowing his head towards her in submission. "You have certainly proved your motives with your words; but now this battle will put your actions to the test." He directed his horse to the far side of the group of the emperor's retainers, leaving Irelia along with her thoughts.

_So then what kind of enemy could we find out there? Is it the work of the Institute, or has Xerath finally decided to make moves against the Capital? It seems very ambitious, and a little too sudden…_

"So you decided not to leave the city after your little outburst," a deep voice spoke surprisingly closer to her, making Irelia jump in her seat a little as she broke free of her thoughts and turned to face the one who was addressing her. It was the emperor himself. Of course.

"That is hardly an appropriate term to call it," Irelia challenged. "You should thank your steward for getting a hold of me before I simply disappeared."

"The army of the sun will need every reflection of light if we are to emerge victorious," Azir noted. "Our forward scouts have recently returned from their treks and have determined that it is indeed an offensive Xerath has been preparing. I shall not be foolish as I was in the past and ignore every resource open to me as I need them, so I am imploring you for your assistance."

"And you shall receive it," Irelia swore, her blades already itching to fight.

"Then be sure not to disappoint," Azir warned her as he tugged at the reins of his horse and rode away.

Irelia's eyebrows furrowed as she refused to look at him any longer. He had quite a bit of nerves if he was planning on speaking to her like that as if she was but another subject to command. Nevertheless, she was going to ensure he would be impressed.

Though it was approaching sunset, the sky should not have been so dark as it was now, and the whole army was now experiencing the unnatural darkness as black storm clouds began to congregate in the sky, ready to unleash precipitation over their heads.

"A storm? At this time of the year, and in a place like this?" Irelia queried to Eliezar, who had returned at her side.

"It is no natural phenomenon," the steward informed her. "It must be the effect of Xerath's doings. The magus must be exerting an incredible amount of force for such discrepancies in the weather to manifest. He cannot be up to something good."

For all the heavy, overcast clouds which were threatening to release their contents right on top of the army, no rain was falling as well as they could tell. The desert winds seemed to pick up the slack, blowing around the group with such forces that their mounts were starting to have second thoughts on sticking around any longer. Irelia looked downwards at her new outfit and was beginning to question its effectiveness in such circumstances.

The sun had already been extinguished from the night sky, whether it was due to a shorter-than-normal sunset or whether the cloud layer had become so thick as to restrict the line of sight each person had. The black backdrop made for some brightly colored contrasting lights when the claps of thunder and lightning made their presence known. With every flash of light, Irelia could catch glimpses and pieces of a huge defense project being realized. She counted eight massive constructs arrayed in a half circle standing about thirty feet tall infused with electricity, ready to fire at any person unfortunate to step too close, but the way they had been set up was that it was impossible to take down one of the turrets without grabbing the attention of the rest of them.

As the army approached closer, Irelia could make out more details in the shadows of the dunes. The towers were not left unmanned, and quite a bunch of mages were assigned to harness the power of the coils. Judging by the sheer numbers which stood at the bases of each tower, it was a whole legion as numerous as the army of the sun ready to man the turrets which would prove to be their biggest obstacle. While Azir's men had slightly differing outfits based on what weapons they used and what style of fighting they utilized, the clothing of the opposition was incredibly uniform, as all the acolytes were donning white robes devoid of any markings except a lightning bolt etched on the side of their right arms. Irelia assumed this would be the fanatical cult Ezreal had described called the Legion of Lightning.

To siege a tower, as Irelia learned in many attempts to form strategy in her matches within the League, was an art not many champions could perform effectively. In her case, the lack of ranged abilities, being confined to the space around her where her blades could pass, meant that sieging was something that did not come second nature. On the other hand, the two champions opposing each other were both fairly skilled at chipping away the defenses before one can strike the jackpot and destroy the towers. Unfortunately, that mean that they were equally talented at defending against the siege and Azir's army would be hard pressed to use siege tactics against a being who could throw out massive amounts of energy to weaken the masses to the point where Xerath's towers should roast them.

Some of the soldiers seemed anxious to actually engage onto the mages who were manning the towers, who were almost willing the constructs to take up minds of their own, and perform battles, if it came down to that. It was not the path of glory that many were seeking; rather, many instead found themselves being the subject of target practice the towers were born to perform as they tried desperately to get a hold on the slippery members of the Legion of Lightning. Irelia was feeling a bit frustrated herself at not being able to have a clear shot because of the range advantages forcing her to hang around near the back of the configuration rather than the start. It was a game of patience more than anything, waiting to see which of the two opponents would come up with the first plan to successfully take advantage of any blunder the other might make.

Unfortunately for the army of the sun, that honor would not belong to them, as what the mages lacked in physical capabilities, they made up for in their intellect. They were able to punish a few overly eager maneuvers Azir's soldiers would try as they constantly tried to force holes into the opposing army's strategy (both literally and figuratively). Meanwhile, the pure energy emanating from the towers ensured that none of them could stand so close in proximity lest they suffer immense damage.

"Mages!" Azir roared. "We will not get anywhere simply by prodding at the enemy's feet! If we are to knock down these towers, we will require a massive offensive and the use of shielding magic to protect our vanguard as they charge down the enemy lines!"

One of the officers riding nearby the emperor relayed the order to the forefront of the army, and after a couple of minutes returned, nodding to indicate that the infantry and magical units were ready to carry out the emperor's plan.

"All forces, huddle together!" the emperor commanded as the army contracted. A line of mages in the rear had gathered together, and holding out their staves, created a translucent barrier in a half dome shape around the soldiers. With their morale restored by their faith in the protective shield, they charged, uttering battle roars as Azir commanded them to attack the turret on the furthest left.

"A smart move," Eliezar observed. "With the way they are arranged, only the forces from one other tower can attack us when you start your offensive from the end of the line."

Irelia nodded, slightly increasing the pace of her camel. "The army may need me." She looked towards the steward, expecting some kind of refusal, but to her surprise the Shuriman merely nodded. "I can't hold you back much longer," he conceded, a grin appearing on his face.

"Then I won't fail you," she promised as she rode her camel a few hundred feet forward before dismounting and running to join the group of soldiers now charging at the tower, blades levitating all around her, ready to strike. Rammus had decided to join the fray as well, the powerball speeding across the sands and approaching the acolytes way too quickly for them to get out of harm's way quick enough.

Impressed by the armordilo's promptness is getting down to business, Irelia darted through the soldiers, who were not advancing as quickly as she could because of the armor weighing them down, and quickly found herself within striking distance of a couple of acolytes, who were not prepared to handle the new arrival's swiftness. In a couple of fluid motions she had dashed to one of them, knocking him across the head with the blunt end of one blade before rotating ninety degrees and slashing at the other with two other of her blades in an x-shape. The man only barely dodged the blades, but at the cost of tripping over himself and falling on his backside into the sand. Not bothering to deal with him as the incoming soldiers would handle it, Irelia fell back into the mob of men as the towers had begun to focus her since she had jumped out ahead of the group. The shots of energy stung, but it did not bother her as much as she would expect thanks to the protective layering of the shield. Once she was sure that the enemy's focus had left her, she once again separated from the pack to pick out any targets unfortunate enough to wander away from the group closer to the tower's entrance. Her blades flashed in the occasional strikes of lightning, the thunder being drowned out in the furious cries of battle. It turned out that although the acolytes were carrying staves of their own, each individual acolyte on their own was quite inept and as long as Irelia had the element of initiating on them, she could easily handle groups of four or five on her own.

Meanwhile, the army had made better progress than before, bolstered by the defense of the shield covering them from the towers' artillery, but it seemed that the amount of acolytes handling the defense of the tower wasn't depleting any time soon, no matter how many of them Irelia was able to incapacitate on her own. Those closer to the tower seemed to be well-versed in actually using casting magic, repelling the advances of the army with a couple of conjured fireballs, which were able to bypass the majority of the shield effects because it was already busy mitigating the damage from the towers. A couple of thunder mages were present on the side of the enemy, their power increasing since all the soldiers were clumped up. Waves of electricity conducted themselves through the soldiers like a circuit, causing many spasms as their bodies reactively convulsed to the voltage flowing within them. Irelia was careful not to stand too close to another person lest she get caught up in the shocks herself.

The area control which the actually proficient mages were able to put up actually did prevent the army from being able to enter the tower proper via the narrow corridors which the mages held. Despite their tenacity, the soldiers simply did not bring enough brute force to shatter the mages' defenses, and although Irelia posed a significant threat, she alone was not able to do enough to force victory for their side. Eventually, she had suffered too many injuries, mostly accumulated from burns as a result of standing too close to the epicenter of summoned fireballs, but she doggedly kept pushing in hopes that her resolve would outlast theirs.

"My lady," one of the officers called out to her, "our tactics are not working, and the emperor has advised us to retreat. Please hurry back to safer ground."

Irelia frowned, still feeling the adrenaline of battle work through her. "We can still fight on, can we not?"

The officer shook his head. "It is unwise to continue the fight for now. We believe pressing on will just be playing into Xerath's hands."

Not willing to strain relations between herself and Azir any further, as well as remaining alone to face the myriad of acolytes, Irelia retreated, although hesitantly. When she returned to Azir and the rest of the company, she was immediately bombarded with questions regarding the nature of the enemy, their estimated power levels, and other variables of war. Although she wasn't the most analytic of battlers, she responded as well as she could.

"This is...strange," the emperor finally observed once Irelia's report was finished.

"How so, my lord?" Eliezar inquired.

"The power of this fanatical ragtag group of heretics who call themselves mages has increased significantly. Though some families of mages did defect from the empire upon Xerath's Ascendancy, they were never so much that they could hold against my forces for so long. I wonder where his followers had gained such strength."

Irelia chose to hold her tongue, not having not enough experience in dealing with Xerath to give a satisfactory comment regarding the battle. Inwardly, however, she did harbor a sneaking suspicion that the Institute's demons played a part in the augmentation of the acolytes' supposed power levels. But would the Institute align themselves with an already powerful champion in Xerath, one that Jax suspected to be a target of the Institute itself? It didn't seem to add up for Irelia, and she struggled to find where the connection lay.

Their meeting was stopped when a scout rode up to the emperor's advisors, panting in excitement. "My lord, we have received reports of another being joining the fight on the opposing side!" he exclaimed.

"More foes to defeat," Azir replied evenly, although Irelia could sense that he had tensed up ever so slightly. "Who is this newcomer?"

"I apologize that I am not familiar with the names of every creature upon this land, but I am sure it is one of those champions of the League which the lady Irelia and yourself are a part of."

The news surprised the entire company, as Eliezar took Irelia onto his horse onto a hill where they could ascertain the identity of the champion who would oppose them. Waiting for the flashes of lightning to give them the vision they required, they stared into the blackness until nature bestowed upon them what they needed. Irelia noticed a couple of black wings and the fuzzy outline of a sword, but that was all of the figure that Irelia needed in order to name him.

"Do you recognize this champion, Irelia?" Eliezar queried.

"I could never mistake that face in a million years," Irelia answered. "It looks like Aatrox has decided to join us."

* * *

If Ezreal ever showed ungratefulness to his support during a match, his experiences as of recent had showed him the error of his ways. He knew he didn't have so much power and energy within him, especially since his stamina outside of the rift was a lot less regulated than when he was fighting other champions. There was always a base to return to, even if you had the misfortune to die. However, when he was truly fighting for his life, the dedication which Janna and Sona showed him as he continued to hold off the sand soldiers charging at them was invaluable, as he knew he would have dropped dead at least an hour ago. Not slacking off out of his own accord, Kha'Zix stayed close to them as well. The assassin would've gladly went into the fray solo, but he understood that his powers did not match up to those of Renekton's and that the aid of some other champions would help his survivability greatly.

And yet the soldiers kept coming, despite Ezreal's reckoning that the efforts of Xerath and Renekton alone should have taken down two hundred. Whoever their commander was - as they were sure that Azir would never do something so foolish - had to be either inept or stupid. He still had no idea why he was being targeted, but since he made a career out of being the most targeted member of a team, he was used to all the attention. Fortunately, Xerath had chosen not to aim any shots at him either, instead focusing on eliminating the sand soldiers with one precise shot per foe. Remind me not to get on his bad side, he thought.

_Ezreal, do you sense something odd?_ Sona asked telepathically.

"Like how?" he asked as he backpedalled away from yet another spearman charging at him. On his side, Janna had summoned a tornado to knock away three others that were trying to flank them, utilizing the sand to further irritate their senses.

_They are lasting a lot longer than the sand soldiers Azir usually creates. It may be just an effect of the League's battlefield regulations, but they do not seem natural_, she explained as she played a discordant chord at another two soldiers, forcing them to break out in a silly dance before Ezreal knocked them down with two quick shots from his gauntlet.

"You might be right," Ezreal agreed. "Although these guys are a lot tougher than the ones Azir brings up, they're not… smarter. The emperor can move his soldiers all around the map but these guys seem to only know one direction, and that's forward." He fired his Trueshot Barrage off to the side, noticing a group of soldiers which were climbing up a dune and realizing that it was the greatest concentration of enemies he could disrupt with the long-distance projectile.

Some ways away, they noticed Renekton sinking his teeth cleanly through the breastplate of one poor soldier as he viciously slashed in a circle, rending the chests of another eight or so. "Ha! I am fury! I am carnage! Keep bringing the fight to me!" Any tact person would probably back off and approach him in another way, but the soldiers seemed to show no regard for their personal safety, trying in vain to match his strength in close combat. Atop his obelisk, Xerath showed the utmost concentration, not budging an inch as he channeled his kinetic power to blast a group of soldiers who had nearly reached the entrance to the tomb.

"Their efforts have been in vain so far," Kha'Zix told them as he drew within conversation distance. "It only remains to see whose will will run out first," he spoke ominously as he disappeared once more into the fray for a short time.

"Ezreal, let's get onto that dune over there," Janna suggested, pointing to a higher point than the one they were standing on. Elevation was the key in extended fights, and Ezreal wanted the best vantage point he could get. With a nod to the wind mage, he shifted away from the clutches of yet another two soldiers as Janna sped them up to make the charge up the hill, managing to avoid combat with the soldiers while they were relocating. A peal of thunder added another sound to the cacophony of battle, and lightning struck for a second to illuminate their surroundings before it disappeared and they continued to make do with the imperfect visibility granted to them by the black and grey sky. From their elevated position, they could see a formless mass of soldiers down in the valley, the darkness making an estimation of their numbers difficult, but what Ezreal could make out was that there were still plenty of them left to fight. He groaned, his mana reserves falling low.

"This is never going to end, is it?" Ezreal complained.

"If we could just find the commander of this army," Janna suggested, "maybe taking him out will cause the remaining soldiers to retreat." Sona communicated her agreement.

"Yeah, but then we'd have to fight our way through that," he pointed out, referring to the blob of soldiers constantly advancing towards their position. "There has to be a better way out of this."

Their thinking was halted by the arrival of the next batch of soldiers, who were summarily dispatched by the sharp shooting of the explorer, aided in his efforts by the strengthening powers of his two supports. He had reached a groove in the rhythm of his shots, almost not paying attention to what he was actually aiming at as long as he had the backing of Sona and Janna, when an unexpected voice shook him out of his reverie.

"Ezreal, wait! Don't shoot!"

He lowered his gauntlet, recognizing the voice, but not believing his ears.

"Irelia?" Janna called out.

The Will of the Blades made her way up the sand dune to evaluate the three, not believing the situation herself. "What are you guys doing out here? You wouldn't agree to Xerath launching an attack on Azir!"

"That's the strange part," the wind mage informed her. "We were just talking to Xerath about how he was in danger from the Institute, and suddenly we just noticed an army of sand soldiers coming at us. Is Azir really commanding these forces?"

"Huh? The army is back down there, trying to take down those towers and acolytes that Xerath set up! There's no way he didn't plan an assault like this beforehand," Irelia said, confused at their story.

"Now you're the one who isn't making sense," Ezreal interjected. "What you're referring to is that massive landmass you call an army. There aren't any towers besides that obelisk where Xerath is standing."

Irelia's eyebrows lowered. "We're not seeing the same thing, are we?"

_A trick of the desert_, Sona realized. _Could this be the work of one of the monsters the Institute has sent here?_

"Sona's been saying that maybe there's some crazy illusion going on here that makes you see that whatever this thing here," Ezreal offered, pointing at what he thought was a mass of sand soldiers, "is a bunch of towers and mages defending them to your eyes, but an imperial army to ours."

"I wouldn't put it past our true enemy," Kha'Zix jumped in, having recently joined the conversation.

"Kha'Zix?" Irelia exclaimed, bewildered at the group's new-found companion. "You're here, too?"

"My explanation comes later. I believe we can all agree that we have a bigger concern on our hands," he told them, gesturing a claw to a sight in the distance.

Four pairs of eyes turned to look in the indicated direction. "That's…" Ezreal started to say.

"Aatrox," Irelia finished. "We saw him in the middle of the battle, but we thought he was with Xerath. Well, he isn't seeming to favor any side, just hovering around all those towers - or army, whatever it is."

"Then it's got to be some trick the Institute is pulling off," Janna mused. "Kha'Zix is right, though. We should focus on the Darkin now, since he's the only opponent that we all know for sure."

"Count me in, then."

All eyes turned to the new voice which belonged to a robed figure coming up from the other side of the dune. Despite its extremely ragged appearance, an outfit absolutely covered in sand to the point where Ezreal thought it might as well have been part of their body at this point, they were standing strong, with a familiar looking lamppost in their hand. _Oh, there he is. __What happened to him?_

"Jax!" Irelia exclaimed, rushing to him as the other four merely hung back, not aware of his sudden disappearance.

"Wasn't he with you this whole time?" Ezreal called out, wondering what he didn't know.

"You are absolutely insufferable, you know that?" Irelia angrily shouted at him as she grabbed his arms in her hands, her blades mirroring her fury. Yet she didn't look like she actually wanted to hurt him, instead alternating signs of relief in her expression. "You had me so worried. Don't leave me again!"

"I'd like to say I had a say in the matter, but those skeletons meant business, you know," the grandmaster coolly answered. He turned to the explorer and the two women, signalling that he had the situation under control. "You all look well, though. Great! It's time to take down a god."

* * *

**A/N: **A pretty big battle in the making, but a few things about this chapter which, although I enjoyed writing, are a bit less refined than others for a few reasons.

\- I have little to no knowledge of the attire female champions wear, so it was a bit weird writing Irelia's description in the beginning

\- Irelia's motivations for joining the fight are a bit dubious. I'm hoping that it makes enough sense for her to only be in it to maintain the order, much like the Kinkou, and that the intent was that Xerath was clearly showing evidence of developing a military complex so she was okay with attacking it to ensure that he couldn't use it to overthrow Azir (it should be a matter for the League to solve, but the Institute is complete bonkers in this story so who knows!)

\- She is really not one to abandon battle, just look at the Battle of the Placidium! I had to make her a little less bloodthirsty for things to actually work out, though

\- Spooky mirages. What's causing the discrepancy in vision between Xerath's and Azir's sides? I assure you, it's not that they didn't ward.

\- what the hell happened to Jax? He'll actually explain this in the future, don't worry.

Next chapter is going to be equally exciting, with a guest appearance by a previously unseen champion. Raise your dongers and enjoy the show.


	19. The Deconstruction of Creation, Part 2

It hadn't been until Irelia felt the gentle ripple of the tides coming forth from the Guardian's Sea washing over her bare toes that she had finally realized that the southern isles were free from the occupation of the tyranny of Noxus and back into the possession of Ionia. The relief she experienced that day was such a large burden lifted off her shoulders of a magnitude that she never expected it to return, but the recent events of the past week seemed to want to also break this perception of her reality. Only that war and its aftermath were able to produce feelings on an equally large scale as the ones which were assaulting her at the moment. The distress she felt upon realizing that Jax had gone missing when Azir's soldiers had found them beset by the skeletons of the trilithon had pretty much equaled the sinking sensation that twisted her heart as she watched the villages of innocent people burn in the wake of the Noxian war machine.

There was one part of her subconsciousness which was scolding her for behaving like such an immature schoolgirl. Her pragmatic side was a remnant of the days when her father was still around to drill the discipline of the Hiten style into her muscle memory as he reminded her that each loss she suffered would yield a greater reward in the future, so long as you bled for it. Losing others close to you had always been part of life, considering humans' limited lifespans. Often times she had wondered how emotions sat with Soraka when she still yet maintained her divinity. Immortality probably helped tranquilize one's feelings, as there was always an eternity to recover from any personal losses.

_Are you saying there could ever be a worthy compensation for losing you and Zelos, Father? I have grown stronger than I ever could imagine since I have joined the League, but I never thought life was all about battle. I have enough demons to conquer and I don't need real enemies to add to that count._

She had never even considered a relationship with an officer in the Guard. Part of the reason was because none of them had really interested her enough, but also because she was afraid of losing them lest they died defending from some foreign invasion or domestic attack. When it came down to it, Irelia had had enough of people throwing their lives away for her. It wasn't like she was the subject of some cryptic prophecy and that she was destined to save Runeterra from some abhorrent evil. At her core, she had to admit that she was just an Ionian. She had undergone rigorous training to develop the killer instinct required of any swordswoman worth her blade, but the fundamental image remained. She was just a girl, born and bred to protect her country with all her might, and she was willing to give her life for that cause.

So why was she so drawn to the man who was possibly the Institute's greatest warrior to ever participate in the League? For someone who thrived on the thrill of combat, Jax had to have always been in danger of losing his life had his winning ways in the days before he joined the League came to an end. At least, when he encountered others on the Fields, it didn't matter that he could not best them, as he only suffered a virtual death, just like the rest of the champions. In fact, she was sure that she hadn't given him any special attention until that one match when he had invited her to share a couple of drinks afterwards. It wasn't until that night, when their lives had repeatedly been put in mortal peril and their paths had irreversibly intertwined as they sought to put an end to this madness, that she actually gave his character more consideration.

Once again, it came down to her absolute hatred of losing. Who better to become enamoured with than the paragon of success himself, the Grandmaster at Arms? In all the battles that truly mattered, Irelia had witnessed his unflappable demeanor rack up victory after victory against the impossibly savage beasts the Institute had unleashed on them. And if she could believe the words of the Storm's Fury, even when she wasn't around, Jax had continued to dominate. It was one of those hot streaks, a rolling snowball whose momentum was getting harder and harder to stop. Irelia was determined to keep this ball rolling.

Karma had, to Irelia's unamused response, described such affections as "tough puppy love." In her young teenage years she rarely had crushes, but she showed fierce concern for the well-being of the few she did have, even though she may have been too afraid to actually talk to the boy herself. At her most embarrassing points, it had resulted in spilling her water bottle all over herself when she anxiously watched one of her crushes narrowly lose a footrace on the slopes of Mount Kujibara due to a slip in his footing. At her most tragic points, it led to her grieving for the better part of two days when she learned that another crush had left to pursue a career in the Demacian military, who at the time was orchestrating a massive campaign in the Great Marsh against Noxus.

Nevertheless, she was determined not to see Jax in such a despicable state, especially since they had finally learned something valuable about their struggle against the Institute. If Aatrox was working alongside the Institute's creatures, did that mean they were also Darkin? Or did he simply offer his aid because of the promise of grandiose warfare on a world scale? Whatever the truth was, Jax was unfit to behold it when his garments were covered with sand to the extent where he resembled a monastic hermit rather than a proud champion and warrior.

"I hope you're aware that you look ridiculous," she told him bluntly.

"I couldn't have made it here in a cleaner condition," Jax asserted. "Besides, it's not like it's going to affect the fighting we're about to do. I'm perfectly fine. Never felt better."

Crossing her arms, Irelia gave a sidelong glance to the others, hoping they would agree with her sentiments when Janna stepped (or rather, floated) forward, an amused smile appearing on her face. "Allow me," she offered, closing her eyes for a second and concentrating the power of the wind to funnel out all the sandy particles from Jax's clothing as if she had an invisible vacuum. Somehow, the grandmaster's hood stayed on, a detail which frustrated Irelia even further. At the very least, however, he looked presentable and not a complete laughingstock when they would confront Aatrox.

"There," Irelia commented, looking somewhat satisfied. "You look much better."

"As do you," the grandmaster slyly responded. "You should consider trying out the Shuriman fashions more often."

She blushed at his words, turning around and making a show of trying to get the group to move down the dune towards the Darkin, much to the amusement of the supports. "Aren't they adorable, Ez?" Janna asked of the explorer.

"I think I'm going to throw up," he deadpanned. "Let's just get a move on." He began to descend down the dune, closely followed by Janna and Sona, who gave Irelia a wink of understanding, much to the Ionian's dismay.

"Humans," was all Kha'Zix chose to say, bringing up the rear behind Irelia and Jax.

Irelia was still seeing the army of the emperor clash against the towers ineffectually like waves try in vain to weather down a high-walled cliff. To her horror, the Darkin had chosen to enter the fight personally, striking down soldier after soldier as the ordinary footman could not withstand his fierce strikes charged by dark energy.

She was thankful for Janna's manipulation of the wind, barely feeling the ground beneath her feet as she ran along the sands and noticing a general lifting of gravity which made her imagine that she was lighter. After a few minutes the group had passed into striking distance of some of Ezreal's longer mystic shots, and it was at that point that Aatrox turned his attention to them, sensing the presence of stronger warriors.

"I have awaited your arrival, formidable warriors," the Darkin greeted them in his eerie baritone voice as he nonchalantly swept aside another of the sand soldiers with his blade. His wings let forth a powerful gale, sweeping away anything close enough to him on his side and behind him, ensuring that there would be no interruptions when it came to his battle with Irelia's group. "You too shall testify to my next great opus."

"Aatrox… why are you here?" Irelia questioned.

"Do you not already know the answer to that, child?" the spirit of war wondered. "When man's ambition gives way to violent tendencies, I must give them their inspiration. They shall provide for me the materials to create my masterpiece, and when they are finished, only the mighty shall join me in the banquet afterwards to delight in drinking the most intoxicating beverage of all." She could only shudder at what he was implying.

"Cut the poetry, man," Jax stepped in, lamppost at the ready. "So which one of the High Councillors set you up to all this havoc?"

"Ah, Jax, the most skillful of them all…" Aatrox greeted him menacingly. "It matters not who the seller is, so long as their wares can satisfy me. And there is no luxury too expensive that can be purchased with the blood price."

"You're a monster," Irelia declared, blades raised in disgust. She charged forward, a piercing battle cry emerging from her lungs, seeking to put an end to his murderous tendencies.

"Irelia, wait!" Jax had called, but she was already three-quarters of the way there, the strikes coming at the Darkin hard and fast. Showing every bit of skill which he had acquired over the centuries, Aatrox expertly blocked all of her blades with three swift motions of his sword, the saber nearly three times the size of each of Irelia's individual blades. As it flashed in front of her vision, she could see the ornate detail of its edge. Perhaps her eyes were playing tricks on her, but she could've swore those patterns were veins and that the blade seemed to be beating like a human heart.

Jumping back a fair distance with the aid of his wings, Aatrox unleashed two waves of energy, which swept across the ground and nicked Irelia on her left leg, causing her to stumble as she tried to run after him. Finding herself unable to chase for the time being, she bent down on the other knee as Jax sensed her injury and began to take up the fight, lamp post lifted in the air as he positioned himself to deliver a vertical strike. Ready to back up his front line, Ezreal moved forward, careful to maintain his distance, as he loosed a couple of homing shots from his gauntlet at the Darkin. She found Sona at her side in a flash, playing a motivating melody that quickly patched up her leg wound.

"Thank you, Sona," Irelia told her as the maven returned the gratitude with a smile and a nod of confidence. Her stamina refreshed, she once again entered the fray, hoping to strike at a different angle than Jax. The grandmaster was keeping Aatrox quite occupied, and she believed that in his concentration not to yield his position to Jax, she would be able to strike an uncontested blow at his leg.

She had almost made connection when an unforeseen force crashed into her side and veered her off course as she fell to the ground. Rolling along the sand in an attempt to take control of her momentum, she halted herself on her hands and knees as she gazed up to find her attacker, a creature very much resembling a giant armored scorpion. Clad in all black which made it seem like a living shadow, it brandished an oversize stinger in its tail which was dangling above her, ready to inject whatever it contained into Irelia's skin. Quickly making distance between herself and it, she scrambled to her feet with some difficulty, the collision bruising her hip.

"Do not think that the Darkin came alone for this one, champions," it spoke to her as it advanced towards her, stinger maintaining its precipitous position high in the air.

There was no doubt that this was the creature the Institute had sent out to bring about chaos in the desert. "So you actually talk, unlike the last ones," Irelia ventured to say.

The scorpion made some guttural noise which seemed to fall between a grunt and a hum. "Some of them are not very talkative. I'm sure you've already met Drakorazer."

"The one on Mount Targon?" Irelia guessed.

"So you have," the scorpion affirmed. "That one is such the obnoxious type. Its shrieking always kept me up at night. I almost wished you actually killed it, cause now I have to - " Irelia had taken the offensive once again, trying to stop the scorpion as it was talking, but it had quick reflexes and parried her blows with its tail before swinging it in a vicious horizontal arc. Irelia only managed to sidestep in time as she settled to staring down her adversary once again.

"So rude," the scorpion commented drably. "Hasn't anyone taught you manners? At least let me introduce myself." For a bloodthirsty creature of the Institute, it didn't act like one. Irelia drew up a few similarities to Cho'Gath during the few times he decided to put on a top hat and monocle - a beast that attempted sophistication but was liable to sink its teeth in you at the slightest provocation.

"You can call me the Droughtgiver. As you could probably guess, the shenanigans you all had to see in the desert were a result of my efforts. You must give me that much credit!" the scorpion chortled.

"You demonic hellspawn!" Irelia cried out as she once again charged the Droughtgiver, who didn't even bother to intercept her blow, instead choosing to backpedal on its hind legs, which it did surprisingly quickly.

"I'm afraid that's a misnomer," the scorpion corrected her. "You have yet to meet him though, so I'll keep the true owner of that description a secret until it's the right time. Who knows? Once we bring you back, you might even get to meet him early!" At the last few words, the scorpion swiveled around before once again swiping at Irelia with its tail as the Ionian leapt over the sweep and grabbed onto a part near the end, carefully avoiding the stinger. Fortunately, her style of fighting did not require her to lay a hand on her weapons to use them, and she was able to aim her blades at the less-armored part between the scorpion's tail and hind legs. Such a strike proved impossible to dodge for the Droughtgiver since it came from within its body radius, and it snarled in pain as it shook its tail wildly, attempting to dislodge Irelia, who did her best to stubbornly hang on.

"You knave! Aatrox! Get the scoundrel off of me!" it demanded.

The Darkin, who was handling its duel against Jax with ease and managing to take minimal damage from Ezreal's long range fire, heeded his request and made his way over, raising his sword and threatening to skewer Irelia there on the spot, but she let go, sliding down the curve of the tail and jumping off the scorpion towards the rest of her fellow champions, taking care to stomp on the Droughtgiver's head on her way down.

"How rude of you, imbecile! You're making it very difficult for me to spare you."

"Patience, friend," the Darkin soothed him. "We will teach them to fear us." In a sudden corkscrew of wings and limbs, Aatrox had taken to the air, preparing to dive onto Ezreal a good distance behind Jax and Irelia, who was only able to get out of the way by recalling the move being used by the Darkin on the Fields. Janna had also summoned a tornado to push Aatrox backwards while Sona kept the scorpion at bay with a couple of diminished chords sending dangerous ripples at it.

"Ah, maven, why such inharmonious notes?" the Droughtgiver taunted. "Not to worry, I will be sure to amend that!" he said as he charged towards the support, who was not fast enough to get out of the way on her own. She hurried towards the protection of Irelia and Jax, but the latter was still preoccupied in dueling Aatrox, while the former was farther off and so she was unable to arrive in time to prevent a claw from digging into the back of Sona's garments, piercing her dress and ripping into the skin beneath.

"Sona!" Irelia cried out as she could hear the etwahl play a few jumbled notes before the maven crumpled to the ground. Determined to avenge her friend, Irelia turned to the scorpion, murderous intent filling up her mind as she leapt at it, waiting to see what defensive maneuver it would employ. It chose to curl its tail up and rotate ninety degrees, intending to meet her leap with a swivel of its tail, but Irelia was ready to change her momentum in mid-air, using one of her blades as leverage to swing under the crook of the tail and propel herself behind it as if she had swung off a monkey bar. With its defenseless back left exposed to her, she slashed diagonally as she landed, causing green blood to erupt from the wound and forcing the scorpion back to tend to his injury.

Seeing how his counterpart was having a good degree of success against her own opponent, Jax decided he really needed to set up his game. He was used to saving the use of his Counter Strike until his opponent truly committed to an engagement, so he had not actually performed the technique against Aatrox, and so the Darkin was wary in return. The warrior had been playing on the defensive as well, the majority of his actions being blocks and concentrating on trying to wear Jax down with the use of the energy coming from his sword, but Jax was always able to leap over the waves and close the distance onto Aatrox at the same time. Still, the Darkin was hardly looking exhausted, his stamina no longer constrained by the League. In fact, the more they fought, the better off he appeared to become. The grandmaster realized he was going to have to bring the fight to the Darkin if he was to prevail in the end.

While Ezreal sent Janna to look over Sona, he sized up his options and tried to figure out which of the two required his assistance more. Seeing Irelia successfully land a wounding blow on the scorpion, he turned his attention to Aatrox, whose powerful out of the Fields of Justice was much more dangerous than he expected. Since both of his supports would be unable to provide aid to either him or Jax, he was essentially off on his own, but despite the added danger, Ezreal broke off into a run to help Jax out anyways. Now that he was at a closer range to the Darkin, he could fire off more potent spells, but not only was he liable to draw fire because of his proximity, but because the spells which would actually have noticeable effects required him to spend time casting them instead of being able to fire off machine-gun shots which came out very quickly but did minimal damage.

A few good reads by Jax allowed him to send Aatrox into retreat once more, a process made more difficult due to Ezreal joining the fray and increasing the pressure by bombarding him with blasts of energy. The Darkin could not walk backwards in a straight line in his attempt to simply outlast Jax, lest he stand in the way of the explorer's artillery. Realizing the effect of Ezreal's harassment, Jax decided he could go for a risky technique, beginning his Counter Strike technique despite Aatrox not actually landing blows on him. When the Darkin realizes what was happening, he attempted to take flight away from the grandmaster, but it was just what the two champions were expecting, with Jax immediately jumping after him as his Counter Strike landed a stun and Ezreal landing a couple of slowing bolts onto him, enabling Jax to tackle Aatrox to the ground as he attempted to pin the Darkin down. However, the raw strength of the warrior, coupled with the aid his wings provided in getting himself up, ensured that Aatrox would not be bested by the grandmaster alone. Ezreal couldn't safely line up any sort of significant damage due to Jax's closeness, so he was relegated to strafing around the two fighters, trying to position himself in a spot where he could unleash a quick flurry of attacks should Jax lose his grip on the Darkin.

Aatrox was not out of tricks, however, and muscled through Jax's grip while using a combination of his wings and sword to absorb some of the damage of Ezreal's shots of energy. To their dismay, the Darkin's sword had grown even bigger due to its constant absorption in combat, and he used the excess blood stored in it to tap into his empowered form.

"Now… witness truth!"

The Darkin's body was glowing red as he once more stood to fight the pair, who decided to keep at their assault due to having a number advantage. However, Aatrox's agility had also increased, so whereas Jax had grown accustomed to the Darkin's old attack patterns, his augmented attack speed threw the grandmaster off for a few seconds as he was forced to recalculate in his head how fast he would have to react. Irelia's heart nearly stopped when she saw Jax make a slight misstep as he erred in his prediction of where Aatrox's sword would go next, resulting in him nearly tripping backwards onto the sand. But he regained his footing, acting a lot more cautiously around the Darkin. Fortunately, Jax was a quick learner, and after telling Ezreal to give them a little more space, he was able to withstand the Darkin's temporary power-up and bring the battle once more into a neutral ground for the remainder of Aatrox's sword's bloodlust. Knowing that it would soon satiate itself and become dormant if it did not taste blood, Aatrox mercilessly continued his onslaught, but was not able to break Jax's controlled blocks. Forced into a corner, Aatrox signalled to the Droughtgiver, who had been at the mercy of Irelia's wrath up to that point, to pull off his own gambit.

Nodding to his ally, the scorpion once more put ground between himself and Irelia as the landscape of battle around them suddenly transformed from a large army fighting into a swarm of pitch black scarabs, which immediately homed in on the group from every side. Ezreal, who had the best area control out of the group, had fired his Trueshot Barrage into one sector, but there was still nearly a complete circle of insects furiously charging at them.

"Well, this would explain that illusion we had earlier!" Ezreal called out, in an attempt to bring up helpful information.

"That's great and all, but how are we supposed to find all of these things?" Jax quizzed him. "Not to mention we have to keep the ladies safe!"

"There's no time for chivalry, you fool!" Irelia chastised, sending her spirit blades through a mass of scarabs. Although each of the four had successfully sliced through a sizable chunk of the insects, their absence was immediately replaced by even more bugs, proving her efforts useless. "If you have to, just make a run for it."

"That's silly," Jax protested. "We're all going to get out of this, or none at all."

Irelia wanted to tell him how much she didn't need them standing up for her, but there were bigger concerns on her mind as she continued to backpedal away from the swarm of scarabs now surrounding them. Jax, determined to end the fight with some sort of consolation prize, threw himself at Aatrox once more, seeing that the bloodlust of the Darkin's sword had faded and his ultimate form's expiration allowed Jax to quickly overpower him.

"And when I said none at all, I mean you too," Jax snarled right into the Darkin's face.

"So you think you can toss your lot in with the lot of the truly immortal?" Aatrox scoffed. "I will find great delight in seeing you struggle."

The horde was right on top of them. Irelia found herself walking right into Ezreal's back as he too was edging away from the scarabs. Right when they were about to crawl onto them, however, a ring of golden light had descended from the heavens, transforming the swarm and the scenery around them into a sea of golden statues, frozen in time and unable to move. As Irelia looked around in the sky, hoping to find the source of her salvation, she saw a most curious sight.

Sitting upon a cloud lit by white light was a strange creature dressed in red robes. Its face was far from humanoid, resembling a robot, but its mannerisms suggested that it was lifelike. Atop its shoulders Irelia could vaguely make out the presence of small companions, about the size of poros, chirping excitedly as they looked down at the battlefield to witness the rest of the landscape absolutely motionless, encased in the magical time seal the creature seemed to have cast. Noticing that only the three of them and Aatrox were able to move, however, Irelia understood what to do, and the figure in the clouds above them nodded, as if approving their deeds.

"Let's finish this!" she exclaimed as she immediately rushed upon the pinned-down Aatrox with all four of her blades, unceremoniously impaling each of his limbs into the sand with one blade each. Seizing his chance, Jax stood over the Darkin, lamppost ready to deal the final blow.

"Tell me, do gods bleed, Aatrox?"

His eyes barely open and his mind barely conscious, the exhausted warrior could only say one sentence to them in return:

"Your victory is but a hollow one."

And then the lamppost came down, hard. Irelia could hear a crack resound from the impact, and it wasn't Jax's weapon that was in trouble.

"It looks like they do."

All around them, however, the golden encasement was beginning to wear off, and the swarm was attempting to fix its disorientation as they regained control over their limbs. The Droughtgiver was particularly bewildered, as he looked up and down his body to see if anything was malfunctioning.

"Whatever clever trick you pulled, it's over now. Now you shall still belong to the swarm!"

The figure in the clouds didn't appear to be done. Opening a multi-dimensional hole in the sand dune nearby, he urged the trio to enter through the portal, showing an example by descending to pick up a very surprised Janna and still unconscious Sona and tossing them in. Left with no other choice, the three champions hurriedly passed through the portal as the red-robed figure brought up the rear.

They had arrived at the other side of the sand dune, where Irelia estimated was about five hundred feet away, within the span of seconds. She wanted to ask the figure what was the meaning of all that had happened, but as it emerged from the portal, it motioned for everyone to stand back. Through the portal, they could hear the buzzing of the swarm, and as the first scarabs emerged, the creature from the cloud sent forth a ray of cosmic energy towards the portal, causing them to stop in their tracks. Immediately the celestial being caused the hole to disappear, leaving nothing but the scarabs which had fully emerged out of the dune portal. No longer fearing the threat, Irelia and Jax rushed towards them and made quick work of the bugs.

With its work done, the creature waved a hand and jumped up into the clouds without waiting for their reaction, disappearing before any of the three could fully understand what had just transpired. There was one thing that Irelia knew for sure, however, and it was that she was exhausted. The battle had gone on for the entire night, and now the desert was a complete darkness, save for the light of the moon, after the golden stasis spell had temporarily lit up their surroundings. She could have just collapsed onto the sands at that moment, but she realized one thing that was missing.

"So if the emperor and Xerath were fighting the same thing, what's become of the battle?" she wondered aloud.

"I suppose there's only one way to find out," Jax decided, Irelia could barely see his hood turn towards her in the moonlight. "It looks like we all have to split up still and meet with our respective sides."

"We're not going anywhere until Sona's well enough!" Janna interrupted. Realizing they had forgotten about the blue-haired musician, Irelia and Jax turned to see the wind mage cradling Sona's limp body, staff in one hand as she attempted to heal the wound the maven had suffered in her back.

"How is she holding up?" Ezreal asked.

"Thankfully, there was nothing cursed or poisoned in that claw which that scorpion thing had," Janna told them. "It surprised me, as I was sure that just making contact with these would have some kind of corrupting effect, considering it's working for the Institute and probably has all kinds of sick and twisted plots with it."

"Or it might be because she had already been a target," Jax thought.

The others nodded their heads in mutual consideration, while Janna returned to nursing Sona's wound. "Well, by now it should have at least healed properly, even if she is not awake for it." She stood up, dusting off her shorts and holding her arms to her chest. "Ugh, it's freezing and we should really get back inside. We can head back to Xerath now, but you're going to have to carry the etwahl, Ezreal."

The explorer groaned. "After all this, you still expect me to perform manual labor?"

Janna put a hand on her hip disapprovingly. "It's not like we have another choice! I have to carry her body all the way back up there, too!"

"That will not be necessary," an insectoid voice uttered. Kha'Zix emerged from behind a small dip in the dune, his claws still fresh with blood. As to where that blood came from, Irelia wasn't sure if she wanted to know.

"Voidreaver!" Irelia exclaimed, turning on him. "Where were you when we had to confront the Darkin and the Institute's monster? You had to be right behind us."

"And that is true, until a point," the bug calmly replied. "As we reached the base of the dune, I realized that there was a central point to all these seemingly unlimited spawns. It was a fine detail that no human eye could possibly discern, so I took it upon myself to investigate. There was a breeding point right in the middle of the mob of sand soldiers, or whatever this mirage actually was. But I clawed my way into the thick of it all and discovered a disgusting gelatinous sphere which was oozing blackness. It seems that from there the dark creatures were born and then spread out across the sands until they took the forms of the black scarabs, and then disguised themselves as other units to confuse us.

"In any case, I realized this unholy grail needed to be destroyed, and I immediately slashed at it. The outside was quite soft, but as I sunk my claws deeper I brushed up against some resistance. It was quite metallic in substance, but nothing that I couldn't eventually overpower. The real problem was that hellspawn which was crawling over me as I attacked the sphere. They did not hurt much, but the feel of their legs writhing all about me caused an insane irritation under my skin. Unfortunately for them, they did not realize I am the ultimate predator. Once I was able to tear away the outer core of metal, I discovered that the nucleus of it all was some sticky cocoon-like ball. If I was to truly evolve from our enemy, why, then there was only one thing to do."

Irelia looked him in the eye with a morbid realization dawning upon her. "You didn't..."

"I can't say I would taste it a second time, but the feeling of this generator digesting through my organs was empowering. It will take some time, but we may be able to at last analyze the methods and very nature of our enemies. Vel'Koz will surely know what to make of it," Kha'Zix told them.

Jax rubbed his chin under his hood thoughtfully. "Looks like you would prove a useful addition to our team, Kha'Zix."

The Void hunter emitted a low growl at him. "Don't think of my cooperation as a permanent alliance. I answer only to the Prophet and the Void. It only so happens that our interests overlap with yours, so you may consider yourself fortunate." He strode over to a very frightened Janna, taking Sona's body into his hands and proceeding along the incline of the dune.

"Whoa, what are you doing?" the wind mage shrieked.

Kha'Zix looked back at her, appearing quite bored. "What does it look like? I'm carrying the musician back to Xerath. Since she can't transport her instrument herself and the explorer is doing that for her, then I guess I'll have the matters into my own hands. Literally!"

Janna could only float there, speechless, but Ezreal, who was quite exasperated at the ordeal, picked up the etwahl with two hands and followed the Voidreaver up the dune. "Well, I'm not going to sit around here any longer. We should probably get back to Xerath. I can't wait to see the look on his face when he realizes how much trouble he could have been in."

Jax called to him, getting the explorer to turn around. "When you're done with the magus, come over to us. We should be leaving here in one group."

"Roger that, captain."

If she could see under that hood - and she was still infuriated at the fact that she never was able to - then she would've sworn that he had a ridiculous smirk on his face as he showed an easygoing bounce in his step, casually striding along the sands.

"You must feel pretty good about yourself, don't you?"

Jax turned around to face her, still in his good mood. "I don't see the problem here. We were able to defeat another one of the Institute's monsters, so it's time to celebrate. It's probably one of the bigger problems that we've had to face, and I'm pretty glad it's over. Finally I can relax for a few."

Irelia couldn't believe what she was hearing. "You? The one who took the trouble to drag me into all these secret meetings and show me all those hidden files and records you and Twisted Fate had been looking at for months, the one who just left for Piltover with that ninja of shadows without telling me, you're saying you're going to relax? Who knows what the Institute is plotting up with the Darkin on their side? I thought we champions could all be standing together to face this, but now our situation's even more dangerous than before! How can you just -"

A gloved hand covered her lips as Jax closed the distance between them, a hand grabbing her arm in an attempt to calm her down. "Like I said, we can relax now. We're still stuck in the middle of the desert and we're not going to do any more investigating any time soon. I don't know about you, but I'm just glad to be alive. At least you and Rammus made it to the Capital, so you should bring me over to the emperor. He and I will probably have a few words to exchange."

The Ionian frowned at the thought of Azir trying to comprehend the threat which had narrowly defeated them. She had no doubt in her mind that if that mysterious being hadn't intervened, the swarm of scarabs would've consumed them and proceeded to swallow the imperial army as well.

"Jax, do you have any idea who our savior was?" she asked.

"Who? Oh, that guy who turned all those bugs to gold? No idea. I'll have to admit, it was a very effective trick which saved our hides at the time," he responded indifferently.

"We owe our lives to it. And I don't even know what to think. There's no better example of divine intervention than that, but with all the unexplained occurrences going on with the Institute's monsters, I don't know what to think of it," Irelia mused.

"Well, we're not going to get the chance to see that being any time soon, I'm guessing," Jax replied as they made their way closer to where the forces of the emperor were. "I'm not going to question it if the gods decide to be merciful and help us out some time."

"Aren't you one easy to satisfy?" she jabbed.

"I'm just calling the shots as they come," Jax deflected. "There's no point in worrying what you can't do anything about. I'm sure you can agree with me on that."

Irelia lowered her gaze. "I… I suppose that's true. But it doesn't make the uncertainty any easier to overcome."

Their conversation was interrupted by Eliezar riding over to the pair, offering them both seats on his horse. "The Grandmaster at Arms?" the steward asked incredulously. "I was told you were lost to the army of skeletons in the Apophian Trilithon!"

As Irelia and then Jax took their places atop the horse, Azir rode over to listen to their conversation, his taller horse allowing him to tower above the other champions as he examined Jax warily. "So, it seems the sands did not claim you after all."

"I get around quite well," Jax casually remarked. "It's a shame we couldn't have met in a more timely manner, but better late than never, right?"

Eliezar was still in shock. "Master Jax, you must inform us of how you managed to get away from them. We had left you for dead, regretting that we had come too late before they overpowered you."

He may have been sincere enough, but Irelia knew that Azir did not share the same concerns at all. Still, she chose to remain quiet, not wanting to lose her cool in front of Jax and preferred to find out the truth from him anyways. "Well, my little adventure is probably one you'd tear right out of a children's fairy tale," the grandmaster began to relate. "It turns out that under the sands is nothing but a graveyard, without the graves. Just piles and piles of bones in this one open area underground. That's where the skeletons took me, preparing to conduct some strange ritual of sorts. The cavern itself was quite barren and the only thing of note was the altar of bone atop a little hill of sand. I was forced to kneel before it as they set it aflame, and before you knew it, Aatrox appeared."

Irelia felt a wave of apprehension pass by her, causing her to shudder, a feeling which wasn't helped by the chilly night air. She reached out a hand behind her, hoping to cling to any part of Jax that she could find. He sensed her fingers brush his leg and, seeming to understand her intention, took her hand in his. Relieved at the security of his touch, she leaned back into his chest, a gesture which Jax didn't seem to object to.

"The dude spoke in a bunch of abstract about the purity of war and other violent propaganda which made me peg him for a type A hegemon, but I started paying attention once he mentioned me in particular. He said some crazy stuff of how the Darkin had watched me ever since I was a child, and he was the one particularly assigned to watch over me and direct my battles. Even though his story is pretty full of bollocks, it's weird to hear one of those kinds of things lump you in with their lot.

"He finished by saying that I was not fated to die here, but rather to continue to bring glory to war and battle, and that the first great test would come here. I never expected him to actually join the fight, but I suppose the allure of blood was too much for the creep. And he probably would have seen his twisted ambitions come true if it wasn't for the help of that divine entity that halted the battlefield for a bit. It was only thanks to its efforts that we were able to defeat Aatrox."

"You saw that miracle too, then?" Azir inquired. "The enemy had begun to turn us back, and my men were beginning to feel fatigue. But a bright light had appeared above the battlefield, preventing me from looking upon it, and when it had cleared I found that the enemy was trapped in a sort of golden stasis, while my men were able to use that time to retreat. When it had lifted, the enemy had decided to retreat."

"It did the same thing to the monster that we were fighting against there," Irelia chimed in. "That reminds me, Emperor, that group of acolytes that we faced, thinking it was Xerath's troops, was actually the work of a creature from the Institute that created that mirage. We were fooled in thinking that it was the other side, just as they had fooled Xerath into thinking they were your sand soldiers."

She could sense Azir's avian mask contract as his features turned into a frown. "So, Xerath is here, then."

"Yes, but now is not the time to fight! You were both working together against a common enemy and at the very least you should just fall back for tonight!" Irelia urged.

"My lord, I would beg the same thing of you," Eliezar advised.

Azir shifted his glance from the Ionian to his servant, a countenance of neutrality garnering his face. "So, the Will of the Blades did not lie then. There was a sinister presence sent by the Institute that tried to attack me… and Xerath, too." He looked away, as if mulling the repercussions of such a story.

"I suppose I could've filled you in better," Jax offered. "It's a political ploy the Institute is banking on, thinking that if they take down the champions representing the city-states, then the states will lose power and that will funnel back to the Institute. They seek to bring Valoran under their control by only allowing the champions of no affiliation to prosper. The two most prominent champions who hail from Shurima, you and the magus, were clear targets in their designs."

Azir seemed to take the words very gravely, his background in politics making him very well aware of what could happen should the Institute amass so much unwarranted power. "And they would try to defy me and my empire, the one that would stretch to the horizon." He made a fist with his right hand, clenching tightly at his side. "Very well. Since I have seen it with my own eyes, I now believe that which I should have accepted before." He turned to Irelia. "I apologize for my impertinence. A proper emperor would heed the warnings of his equals of other states. Only now do I understand how important the grandmaster is to the success of this undertaking." He bowed, now turning to the army. "My soldiers! Today we claim a great victory for Shurima! But we cannot take the glory for ourselves, for we have been humbled. It was only with the help of our friends and allies that we emerged triumphant over our enemies.

"Today we acknowledge the existence of a great evil, one that extends beyond our borders, and indeed, even threatening the balance of Valoran itself. As the heralds of the sun, we must not let this darkness take out the flame that is our future. Who will stand with me to perpetuate the torch of our humanity? Who will protect the coming generations from this present evil? Who will defend our great nation, and the prospects of all others?"

A resounding chorus of shouts came from the soldiers below them standing in the basin, as spears and shields were lifted in assent.

"You will show them our might! All will know the name…"

"SHURIMA!"

* * *

That night, Irelia had learned that despite several millennia of being forgotten, Azir's subjects really knew how to party.

As Jax had instructed them, after sharing their stories, this time successfully, with Xerath, Ezreal, Janna, and Sona (a bit banged up, but otherwise recovered from her injuries) made their way over to the army of Azir, where they all joined together back towards the Capital. Kha'Zix had chosen to leave the group, satisfied with his findings to report back to Malzahar, but left with an ominous prediction that he would soon cross their paths in the future. Despite it being nearly midnight, the emperor had thought it fit to hold a royal banquet in commemoration of their victory. Only then did the five champions realize they were absolutely famished, eating of the succulent dishes to their hearts' content. The real kicker of the night, however, were the beverages that followed.

"Are you even old enough for this stuff, kid?" Jax teased Ezreal as he took a long swig from his goblet.

"Very funny, Jax. Man, how many of those have you had tonight? I guess I shouldn't be surprised, seeing that you used to do this every night back when Gragas' bar was still standing," Ezreal countered.

A couple of "oohs" came from the table as Jax took the jab in stride. "You speak of it like it's a bad thing. And tell me, have you ever heard of any such incident where I was drunk enough to start something so stupid like a fistfight at the bar?"

"He's got a point, you know," Janna piped up, taking a sip of her own wine. "I don't know how you can do this, Jax, it gets bitter after a few tastes."

"With all due respect to the emperor, I've had a lot of finer vintages," Jax told them. "This one's not bad, but I wouldn't use it for such an occasion. Perhaps for a lighter night with a couple of friends. Definitely not a banquet-style wine."

His comment elicited a couple of chuckles from the other members of the table as Irelia idly stared at her own drink, having refused to touch it since the servant poured it out for her. Not one to miss such an emotional outlier, Sona reached out with her mind to confront her friend.

_Is something the matter?_ she probed.

_I'm fine, Sona. Just a bit tired_, she did her best to reply back with all the weariness she could muster.

_I understand. It's been a long day_, she agreed. _But there is something else. You're hiding more from me._

_Sona, it's -_

_Some things you may want to keep secret. And I respect your right to your own privacy. But if you're not going to tell it to me, then I'm sure there's someone worthy enough to listen to you._

Sona let Irelia to sit there pondering her words of advice as the maven gulped down the remainder of her drink. _Well, at least you're intending on having a good time tonight._

_Of course. And who's to say you won't either? There's nothing wrong with the mood in here._

_I suppose_, Irelia thought as she got up to excuse herself from the table. "Sorry guys, I'm going to have to turn in early. I was never really one for staying up so late."

Out of the great hall she strode, although not directly to her room which Azir had allotted to her, located on the second floor. Instead, she took the stairs up to the balcony overlooking the city, where she could peer through the open air window into the streets and buildings of Shurima's capital city. The vantage point of the palace being on the highest hill in the city allowed for a stunning view of the metropolis at night as Irelia gazed out at the scenery, painted in the dark blues and blacks which characterized a midnight engulfed in the pristine quality of nature. Above the city, the sky served as a tapestry, glimmering with the speckles of the stars set out to adorn the night as a pair of diamond earrings adorned a woman.

"The Archer is out tonight, huh?"

Irelia turned around to see a much cleaner and polished up Jax than when he had first arose from the dunes. Keeping her back to the railing, she looked him steadily, expecting him to continue on his opening statement.

"I never got the constellations," Jax continued as he joined her lookout on the balcony, pointing at a group of five stars which made up the figure of the Archer. "Pick out a few stars, turn your head in some way, and maybe look at the sky after a few drinks or so. And easy as that, you got your new constellation."

"You don't have to be so technical about it," Irelia sighed as she couldn't help smiling. "The beauty in them comes from their history and reference to our mythology rather than their artistic correctness."

"Well, aren't you the abstract thinker?" Jax observed. "You looked more to me like someone who thought empirically."

"I had to learn to think outside my own limits ever since you got me caught up in this," she replied, slightly rueful.

"You know, I don't understand why you're so uptight after all this. I told you to relax, enjoy yourself, maybe shed a little of your shell. You're not some crab that sits around under its rock all day, and only comes out when it needs something," Jax told her.

"I was just thinking about… how hard it would've been for me if you weren't able to hold off Aatrox there," she admitted. "You had a few close calls and I wasn't sure if I could make it out of there without you."

"So that's what this is all about?" Jax asked, calling her out in her weakness. "That's not something the Irelia I know would say. Something's not right here, and I'm sure it's not that."

She couldn't look at him anymore, not when he was pressing her to reveal something she didn't really want to let out. "My father, my brother. All the men close to me in my life, anyone I had risked caring for so much. They all left me, for one reason or another. When I saw you come back after nearly losing all hope of you ever returning… you were the first. The only one to ever break that curse. And I don't want to know the pain of losing you."

He had come closer to her now, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as she started to break down. She sunk her head into the side of his chest, trying to hold onto the tears that inevitably started to fall from her eyes. She told herself she had to be strong. It would dishonor her father's memory if she let her emotions completely envelop her identity. _Keep it together, damnit. For Father. For Zelos._

"Irelia."

She deigned to look upon his face. Still a mystery, covered by that blasted hood.

"When Aatrox appeared before me in that cavern, preaching about that violent dogma, I was actually terrified. For all my life I had only known battle, and I knew it was going to be a necessary part of my life, especially when I joined the League. But the way he spoke of it, of the atrocity that it resulted in and all the lives that I didn't realize would be gone forever… it nearly shattered my belief. I thought fighting to achieve victory was the way I would achieve meaning for myself," Jax related.

"You can't talk like that," Irelia argued. "You can't make yourself out to be a one-dimensional character like I know you're not."

"They might've called me crazy. For saying I'd fight until there is no more," Jax spoke wistfully. "At the end of the day, there could only have been one to rise above it. And I figured that if that were me, then by winning I would get my purpose. But there would've been no point if there was no world for me to have a purpose in."

"That wouldn't happen. I would kill you before I let such a tragedy occur." Irelia let out a small smile at her own dark humor.

"I wouldn't expect anything less from you. So I decided that I had to change my motivation for fighting. I couldn't deny that it was still the talent given to me, so rather than completely rewrite my life, I thought of a new purpose for me to aspire to," Jax commented.

"And what is that?"

"I would fight for you. Together, we'll get to the end of this and punish the Institute for what they're trying to do on the champions. We'll win every battle, we'll beat anyone standing in our way and no matter what, I won't leave you again. I would hate to see you so sad a second time."

Irelia looked at him, her sorrow replaced with sheer determination, and lunged forward, throwing her arms around his neck. He returned the gesture, wrapping his own around her waist as he pulled her towards him. She laid her head in the crook of his neck, reveling in his sheer existence, every inch of his being. So what if he was still an enigma to her, after all this time? If he would hold to his word, then maybe, eventually, she would get him to open up. It was a better basis than before, and certainly better than nothing.

"I promise I'll stand by you. I intend to fulfill my own half of the bargain," she told him.

"That's good. I wouldn't want any sly moves pulled on me now," he joked.

"Well, mister grandmaster," Irelia began to say, growing more confident, "speaking of sly moves, you missed an opportunity there."

"Oh? And what would that be?"

She pulled away from him, their faces inches apart. "It would've been a perfect time to kiss me. I wouldn't have minded."

He made a show of looking away. "Well, you did get me there. Quite a shame. I guess my window's closed now."

"Not yet, as a matter of fact. You'll have to hurry, it can't be open for long." And he seized the opportunity, leaning forward as he closed the gap and their lips met in an exquisite sensation of what Irelia could only describe as the culmination of all the joy in life that she had missed.

* * *

**A/N: **what the hell did I just write

my plot summary for this chapter after the battle was just supposed to be "they meet up with Azir and reconcile what happens, then I finally get to add the romantic part" and that came out MUCH longer than I expected.

Anyways, this is the conclusion of the Shuriman arc. I did some rough outlining and the next few chapters will provide quite a change of setting for our cast. I don't expect much more progress to be done on any of my stories for a while seeing as how the end of the school year is approaching, but we'll see how well we can manage my time.


	20. The Distance

As much as Ezreal disliked Yasuo for several reasons - the fact that he was a wanted murderer, his ridiculous hairstyle, his tendency to suspend you in midair before cutting you into pieces - he had to agree with the wind samurai's philosophy. Hangovers were just as inevitable as death and taxes. Or was it honor? The explorer was too out of it to remember, or care.

Consciousness swept in like the rush of water down a river in spring. Acute pain soon followed. Gritting his teeth together in an attempt to endure the overwhelmingly brutal sensation cutting into the side of the head, Ezreal rolled sideways, hoping his efforts in moving would alleviate some of the immense discomfort gripping his head, but instead found his troubles compounded when his body fell off the side of the bed, eliciting an oomph from him and racking up the hangover to the level of undergoing a lobotomy conducted with a rusty screwdriver. All the while, the explorer had been yelling a variety of colorful phrases in another attempt to distract his mind away from the much more painful and pressing issue. Finding his efforts to end in vain, Ezreal decided to remain on the floor, head pressed against the carpet, quietly suffering through his agony as he waited for the knife of a hangover's aftereffects to pass by. Ten minutes had elapsed before Ezreal noticed the pain beginning to subside, allowing him to finally sit up and begin to recollect his memory which was smashed by the ninth or so wine glass the previous night.

Now he was beginning to remember. It was quite the spectacle to see, the royal banquet bringing together scores of women from all over the Capital's neighborhoods all in one place for the sole purpose of getting together to enjoy the company of others (and partake in the consumption of alcoholic beverages). Such a high-profile setting would easily have intimidated the average man, but Ezreal was far from that bland description. After witnessing the impossible in battle and coming forth, rising from the depths of chaos to survive at the end of the day, Ezreal believed he was entitled to several of life's greatest pleasures, not the least of which being alcohol and women. He had plenty of the first, remembering the impressive chain of shotglasses he had stacked up at his seat. The second would soon follow, he had thought, seeing in the eyes of every woman invited to the palace a passionate desire to make connections a little more intimate. Surely he had worked his magic with at least one of those magnificent specimens, right? Raising himself up to scrutinize his own bed and determine if his assessment was correct, his eyes slowly slid up as he eventually caught the whole bed in view. What he saw surprised him.

Aside from the numerous fluffy pillows which lay above the bedsheets, the bed was empty. Feeling quite confused, Ezreal got up and looked all over the room for some kind of note which might explain what had happened last night, providing that he had indeed shared his bed with one of the beautiful women there as he reveled in the spur of the moment. Yet upon further inspection of the bathroom, closet, and even writing table, it seemed like his searching had come to an end and Ezreal did not in fact, take a girl back into his own room.

Resisting the urge to drown his disappointment in the spare bottle of vodka resting on his dresser, Ezreal finally realized the greater scope of his situation and the fact that he was indulging on the emperor's private state rooms. An unprofessional display of laziness was out of the question for the day after their victory, so after slapping himself in the face a couple of times, once for each cheek, he dragged himself to the shower and washed up.

He set the temperature fairly low, the natural heat of the desert coming in through the walls and ensuring that the palace did not need any central heating system. _Clever of the birdman, _Ezreal admitted. _Looks like he still has some basic knowledge of insulation. _It wasn't until halfway through his shower that Ezreal realized he hadn't been informed as to where the party would go next. Jax had told him yesterday after the battle to make his way over to him after all the commotion wore down, but the grandmaster had departed the table earlier than usual last night and Ezreal received no important information, as far as he could remember.

He grabbed a towel from one of the overhead racks when he finished, wrapping the soft material around his body as he discovered a set of clean clothes which matched his rugged fashion sense when it came to field work. He couldn't help but grin as he was impressed at how accurately the servants at the palace researched his typical wardrobe. Perhaps this was the standard fare they provided for archaeologists around these parts, as there were many who, before the revival of the empire, traversed the desert, some hoping for knowledge, others for riches. If that was the case, then it would make sense for them to be used to supplying traveling explorers with the attire they preferred.

The clock in the room read half past nine, which was way later than Ezreal anticipated, although considering the liveliness of the previous night, he decided to let slip through his mind without too much worry. Seeing the corridor empty when he poked his head out, he relied on his natural sense of direction as best he could in order to find his way to the main hall, where he would assume either the rest of the group would be. A large selection of bread and grains were set out along a lengthy table, which Ezreal could only assume was the breakfast granted to them. However, there was no sign of his fellow champions eating at the table.

To his horror, he found the four already grouped up on a couple of couches, chatting quietly until they heard Ezreal's footsteps approach. Upon his arrival, Janna had enthusiastically pounced on him, nearly causing him to lose balance as she flashed a smile which could melt even the coldest of hearts at him as she backed off. "Ez! Sleepyhead's finally awake. About time, too. How much did you drink last night?"

"Enough that I don't remember the exact amount anymore," Ezreal answered abashedly. His response drew a giggle from the wind mage as Jax spoke up, drawing his attention to the hooded brawler. "Well, it's unfortunate you weren't able to catch breakfast with the rest of us, and as much as we'd like to enjoy ourselves a little more under the emperor's roof we've mooched off his hospitality long enough. We'll be going in five minutes into the teleportation room, and I've got until then to brief you on our situation."

Ezreal was nodding absentmindedly until Jax brought up teleportation. "Hold up there. Did you say teleportation? I thought the Institute had acquired the rights to that technology a while back."

"Well, given the difficulty in making a standard journey from the middle of the desert to, well, anywhere in Runeterra, they decided to lease a few teleporters to the emperor," Jax explained. "Just like the technology at the Institute, these will be the same things we're going to use. It takes a good deal of preparation to get them running, which is why we'll have to use them in five minutes or not for a few hours. Anyways, it looks like we're splitting up again. Irelia and Sona will be joining me as we take our teleporters to the Demacian Hextech Facilities, while you and Janna are heading to the laboratories in Bandle City."

Ezreal thought Jax's choice of destinations was quite strange. "Bandle City? Never thought I'd have a reason to go there. More leads popped up?"

"Not necessarily. It's on the way to Icathia, however, which is the target we're interested in. You'll meet up with Kassadin around the area most likely and you'll do some digging around to see if there's any connection between the Void and these creatures. I know Kha'Zix has claimed that he and the Prophet are on our side, but… if anywhere on the planet has answers to what we want, Icathia's the place and Kassadin's our man. As for us, we'll be looking in to what's possibly the largest security breach we've seen so far. The next possible target is the crown prince himself."

Ezreal gave a start at his words. Targeting the heir to the Demacia throne would have devastating effects and a huge backlash if they succeeded. The champions that had been targeted so far either had little political value or had unique situations that allowed the Institute to fudge the important details, as was the case with Xerath and Azir, but there would be no appeasement if Demacia were to have its prince incapacitated in any way.

"Jarvan himself? The Institute's gone way out of their element here."

"I wouldn't put it past those shady summoners. The fact that they're already backstabbing us gives us enough cause to consider them willing to get to their means by any ways necessary," Jax mused. "Well, it's time we got going."

"Hey, what's the big idea with putting us in the group with less peo -"

The grandmaster stood up abruptly, cutting off Ezreal's complaint entirely, with Irelia and Sona following him as he led the way to a much more modern looking room, where several transporters akin to the ones used in the summoning chamber were housed. A couple of servants were on duty, having been informed of the champions' intent to use them, and stood at a control panel where they were ready to oversee the activating of the portals. The one closer to the entrance, upon seeing the champions, gave a look of recognition as he hurried towards the group, bowing deeply upon stopping in front of them.

"My lords and ladies, permit me to introduce myself for the short time we have together. My name is Eliezar, the head steward to the emperor." He gave a knowing smile to Irelia. "I have been fortunate enough to already have met one of you, and to the rest it is truly an honor. Now, please allow me to direct you to the correct transporters." He pointed to two capsules on the left end of the room, instructing Ezreal and Janna to stand inside them, as he led the other three to the opposite side of the room to step inside the transporters of their own. As the glass door slid closed, Ezreal realized he hadn't gotten a proper briefing from Jax about what exactly he would find in Bandle City.

Banging his fist on the glass, he tried to get the grandmaster's attention. "Jax, wait up a minute! You've got to give me more to work with than just this! I have no idea where I'm supposed to go after we arrive!"

Jax tilted his head towards Ezreal with an almost bored expression. "I did say Icathia, didn't I? The rest is up to you. You've got Janna with you, so you two shouldn't have any problems getting the yordles' assistance to get you there eventually," his voice came through on the intercom which linked all the transporters.

"You're kidding me," Ezreal sighed, but Janna in the next capsule over turned and smiled.

"Don't worry," she reassured him. "You're safe with me! I am your support, after all."

He shot back a pained grin and steeled himself for the transport as Eliezar cut off their little convesation with instructions of his own. "Excuse me, but I am about to start the teleportation process. It is imperative you move as little as possible to put as little as strain as possible on the particle manipulation transmuters." The low hum of the contraption filled the room as Ezreal felt the g-force in the capsule increase. When he had first become a champion, the hyperspace travel had awakened the motion sickness in him, but he had grown accustomed to it after a few weeks. Still, he had to mentally prepare himself for the sudden change in perception, as the transport felt like he was rapidly falling like a cliff diver taking a plunge into the ocean. The roar of the machines operating at maximum velocity filled his ears, and he felt his eardrums pop as the scene around him dissolved into an all-encompassing white light. A few seconds of mind-numbing acceleration, and he felt his body in one piece again. His eyes adjusted to the environment, a similar looking room filled with machines operating the transporters, but it was larger, opening up to other rooms hidden from his eyes at the moment. The greatest distinction was situated behind the control desk, in an elevated chair which compensated for the user's short stature.

"Oi, Rumble! The blokes from Shurima are here!" a heavily-accented yordle voice called out.

The yordle gadgeteer soon entered the room, staring at Ezreal with an intensity matching the heat which came out of his mech's Flamespitter. The explorer, understandably, felt very conscious as the yordle's eyes judged him. The Mechanized Menace was an outspoken critic of Piltoverian residents ever since Heimerdinger inspired a great migration of Bandle City youths to head over to the Yordle Academy in the City of Progress instead of remaining in the homeland to learn at the universities in Bandle City. He took great pride in knowing that yordles had made greater headway in hextech than humanity, and he was furious at Heimerdinger for being a "sellout," as he termed it. His disgust extended to the residents of Piltover, seeing them as weaklings who had to rely on the superior yordle technology to bring their city up to scratch. He never got away with expressing his views without a severe scolding from even those who sympathized with him, but it never dissuaded him from maintaining his stance.

Rumble must have been informed beforehand of the champions' arrival, as he seemed to tolerate their entrance, passing by Ezreal without much of a reaction. He did seem to stagger as he shifted past Janna, a reaction which Ezreal noted with amusement. Despite his efforts to keep up his 'tough guy' status, he still had trouble not being captivated by the wind mage's beauty. Ezreal wouldn't blame him, as the clothing which the Shurimans provided her gave Janna quite an exotic look. The low-cut blouse was colored a pale yellow which complemented her blonde hair, which was tied up in a bun rather than being left down as was her typical hairstyle. She also donned form-fitting black pants which very generously showed off the curve of her legs, the part of her that Rumble saw the most of because of his diminutive stature. Ezreal couldn't help but approve, as he was also a man who appreciated a good pair of legs.

"So," Rumble began, jolting Ezreal back to reality, "we get stuck with you instead of Jax or Irelia. Typical. Well, someone's got to show you around, so follow me and don't lag behind," he said impatiently as he walked out of the laboratory as fast as his stubby legs could carry him. Ezreal complied, walking along at a leisurely pace as Janna floated alongside him, curiously looking at the industrial equipment all around them. It seemed like Bandle scientists were hard at work improving their irrigation systems, as Ezreal noticed preliminary graphs and blueprints for constructing aqueducts pinned up on walls around the rooms they passed by.

"Drought season's hit us hard," Rumble told them as they reached the exit of the laboratory. "We're already spreading ourselves thin trying to handle the water problem and that crazy witch girl comes back from the Institute with the word that the summoners over there are trying to pull a fast one on us champions? The world's ridiculous."

"Hey, Rumble," Ezreal cut in, curious to know how aware Bandle City was of their predicament. "How much has Jax told you guys? We only ran into him again yesterday night after a crazy battle out there in the desert, and yet he's already got the Shurimans, Bandle City, and the Demacians all ready for a inter-city transport? The guy must have some ridiculous connections."

Rumble hopped onto a counter, where he could almost stand eye-to-eye with Ezreal, and smirked. "Well, in our case, those 'ridiculous connections' would be me. You must be aware of the Top Lane Brotherhood, aren't you?"

Ezreal arched an eyebrow, and Janna showed the same skepticism on her face. The yordle laughed mirthfully as he began to explain. "Well, guess you guys wouldn't know being all the way on the other side of the map. The Brotherhood's been an organization dating back from the very beginning of the League. The founding members were Nasus, Malphite, and you guessed it, Jax himself. We're a band of brothers that watch each others' backs off the Fields and there's a bunch of small groups that hang out around the Institute when we get the chance. Our ranks have expanded to include members from pretty much every corner of Valoran, so if one of us notices anything strange, he tells us immediately. So a few days after the explosion at Gragas', Jax had gathered as many of us as he could before champions started leaving and gave us a subtle rundown of what to expect. It's been a while since that meeting, but the dude got a hold of me last night and told us he needed them to open the transporters cause he needed to send a few people here."

Ezreal was pretty impressed. There existed a whole network of champions all over the continent who were aware of the situation, albeit not as in-depth as those who were personally with Jax. "So how much do you know?" he inquired of the yordle.

Rumble rubbed a paw on his chin. "He told me of that Dreamweaver thing which attacked Sona and that Ionian sorceress on a power trip. That's when I headed back to Bandle cause the atmosphere in the Instiute was getting super sketchy, but I haven't seen anything happen on our front since I got here with a few others. Ziggs, Trist, and… Teemo are all back too."

"When you say brotherhood, does that mean it's only male champions in it?" Janna piped up.

Rumble shifted his weight uneasily. "Oh, well, that's just a name. It's true that not many gals come up to top lane where only the manliest guys duke it out…"

"And you," Ezreal pointed out.

The yordle's eyes flared. "Don't get cocky with me, Piltie," he warned. After calming down, he continued. "Well, we don't have a lot of women in the brotherhood, it's true. But there's a couple. Shyvana and the Exile were termed honorary bros about a year ago."

"Riven?" Ezreal wondered, skeptical of the former Noxian's willingness to get involved in anything even remotely social. "Never thought her the type to join in with champion bonding."

Rumble shrugged. "Yeah, I don't see much of her. She was the one who suggested that Jax look at Irelia, though, and judging by the way things have been going, she seems like a good fit for the brotherhood."

Ezreal and Janna exchanged glances, both knowing the grandmaster's recent fondness for the Will of the Blades, and couldn't help giving each other small smiles. Rumble, sensing that he was missing something, spoke up. "What? Did I say something funny?'

"Oh, not at all," Janna assured him. "We agree completely. Jax seemed to have taken a liking to Irelia from what I could tell during our troubles," she related, ending our statement with a subtle wink which the yordle seemed to not have noticed.

"Anyways," Rumble resumed his explanation, "so where's Jax, then, if he sent you guys here?'

"Demacia," Ezreal answered. "He took Irelia and Sona with him. Apparently there's a huge security crisis with Prince Jarvan or something, so he went to check it out and stifle the situation before it actually becomes a problem."

"Ah," Rumble replied, not looking surprised in the least. "Most likely made contact with Garen about the situation, then. You see? The Brotherhood's got Valoran covered." During the tail end of their conversation they reached the exit of the laboratory, walking out onto the midday Bandle streets lit up by the scorching sunlight. Ezreal lifted a hand to his forehead, slipping on his field goggles in order to deflect some of the light blinding his eyes.

"Yikes. Sun really isn't letting up here," he commented.

"The weather might be warm, but we Bandle Gunners are coming out hot too!" They heard the enthusiastic voice of a female yordle from above them, looking all around as she landed neatly in front of them atop her cannon which nearly matched her size. With a typical military salute, she leapt down to greet the newcomers. "Welcome to Bandle City, guys!"

"Tristana!" Janna received the marksman with equal happiness. She and the Megling Gunner had often paired up as lane partners, her wind magic providing a much needed protection to the easily harmed yordle while she took her time to upgrade her cannon in order to shoot from an extremely long range once the late game had arrived. Janna's shields were also highly beneficial for the happy-go-lucky yordle who enjoyed launching herself into the fight, allowing her to do more damage and stay alive longer so each kill she received allowed her rocket to recharge so she could always make one last jump to safety.

While Tristana had captured their attention with her impressive entrance, Rumble had timidly stood off to the side, tinkering with something in his hands. "Hey, Trist," he said nervously.

"Mornin' to you, too, Rumble!" she greeted back good-naturedly. "Well, I hope Mr. Rachetclanker here hasn't bored you guys to death. The company car's in the garage so we can take it out for a ride and show you the town before we have to get down to business." She hopped off of the cannon and started leading the group off to the side of the laboratory building to a smaller inlet.

"Trist, that's not even a word," Rumble complained quietly.

"You've all been prepared to have us over?" Ezreal inquired.

"Hey, what we lack in height we make up for quick connections. What hits the grapevine gets to all the vineyards in no time at all," the gunner explained. "Rumble's told me, and I passed it on to Teemo, who told me to relay to you guys that he thought he noticed something strange in the part of the jungle near the Kumungu border. It seemed like a pretty important issue, so I decided to bring you all along."

Ezreal put one hand on his hip, looking to Janna for an opinion. When the wind mage didn't show any signs of opposition, he spoke up. "Sure thing. Jax never gave me a specific set of instructions to follow, so if the Institute's got something planned over here it's best to sort things out at home first."

Tristana pulled out a remote control from one of the pockets sewn into her vest, pressing the button to open the garage door. When it had fully raised, Ezreal couldn't help but be surprised: in contrast to the sleek forms of typical Piltoverian automobiles, the Bandle City car before them was a much flatter vehicle, rectangular in shape and wider than the automobiles he was used to seeing. There was an abnormally large amount of space in the back of the car, which made Ezreal think it might be the yordle equivalent of a pickup truck.

Behind it, leaning against the wall, was Rumble's greatest creation, his mech suit. Due to the yordle's small stature, it wasn't as tall as expected, but it did tower over him, about the size of Cho'Gath if he was half full. Rumble grinned upon seeing his trusty contraption and made a beeline for it, hopping up one of the robotic arms and sliding a key into the side of the machine which made the front visor pop up. Situating himself smugly in the cockpit seat, he flashed a smile intended for Tristana while the gunner merely rolled her eyes and used her own set of keys to unlock the car.

"The seats in the back are for you. I'll have to open the top cause you guys are so tall, though," she instructed as she got into the driver's seat.

"Right. And… what about Rumble?" Ezreal asked as he opened the door for Janna to get in first.

"I'll be fine. This suit's got wheels!" he proudly announced as he pressed a button on his control panel, causing the mech to shift slightly upwards, revealing a set of wheels on the soles of its feet. Another button short forth a rope from one of its arms, which wrapped around a hook set into the rear end of the car. Understanding that Rumble was going to be towed by the car, he nodded and followed Janna into the back seat.

Turning the ignition on, Tristana changed a few settings as she prepared to head out of the garage. "Fasten your seatbelts, kiddos. The border's quite a way off, so we'll be moving fast," she said mischievously as she suddenly set her foot to the pedal, swiftly accelerating and startling Ezreal as he was thrown back into his seat at the abrupt movement of the gas. Behind him, he could hear the wild yelling of Rumble as he rocketed forth by the momentum created by the vehicle. His face frozen with horror at the yordles' love of travelling at dangerously high speeds, he hazarded a look at Janna, only to see her face also elated at the prospect of moving at such extreme velocity. Winking, the Storm's Fury grabbed his hand, doing her best to soothe the explorer whose idea of moving quickly didn't exceed his own running.

"How are you not scared for your life right now?" a bewildered Ezreal asked.

Janna used her free hand to push a few stray strands of hair out from in front of her face. "Silly, Ez, who do you think I am? They don't call me an avatar of the wind for nothing!" Ezreal moaned, fastening his gaze to the back of the driver's seat and trying very hard to focus on anything else besides the speed of the automobile.

One agonizingly long hour later, a shell-shocked Ezreal stepped out of the car, his legs shaking uncontrollably as he had clenched them the entire ride. Janna exited out smoothly, a look of perfect serenity gracing her face as she took in her surroundings. Tristana had driven the car a bit through the forest before the tree line got thicker, but eventually had to stop at an impassable wall of foliage which marked the eastern boundary of the Kumungu Jungle. Rumble remained in his mech, detaching the machine from the car and joining the others as they followed Tristana into the jungle proper.

"Over here," she directed, pointing to a clearing where the trees parted a little and a small patch of grass made up the center. A couple of fallen trees lay in the rough, and the thickness of the leaves overhead only allowed a small amount of light to reach the forest floor.

"So, what's supposed to be here?" Ezreal, having somewhat recovered from the car ride, asked?

"Me," a soft voice announced at his feet. Caught off guard, Ezreal leapt backwards and nearly fell over his legs as a yordle, clad from head to toe in a green recon uniform and yellow hazmat goggles, seemingly materialized out of nowhere. He realized that the grass covered the yordle so well that if he had not moved or spoken up, they could very well walk by him without noticing.

"Hey, Teemo," Tristana spoke up casually, as if the scout's antics were nothing out of the ordinary - and by the gunner's wild standards, Ezreal felt that was very likely. The scout replied with a curt nod, switching his attention to the yordle within the mech suit behind all of them. "You brought the runt, too?"

The mech's arms changed into a fighting stance as Rumble expressed his anger at Teemo's underhanded comment. "Runt? How can you call me short when I'm all the way up here?" he cried out.

"Shortest in our graduating class," Teemo calmly replied.

"By half an inch!" Rumble exclaimed despairingly. "I can't believe you let Wesley Burroughs stick me with that terrible nickna -"

"Quiet," Teemo commanded. Rumble, despite his rant, immediately sat his mech down, awaiting further explanation from the scout, who stood perfectly still, looking at the forest for a few seconds, before continuing. "There it is again. Every few minutes, there's been the sound of… something walking in these woods. And it's not one of the wild animals, I'm sure of it."

Tristana immediately took up her cannon, pointing it in several different directions to make sure they weren't flanked by the mysterious intruder. "You reckon it's dangerous?"

"Of course," the scout answered. "Anything that I don't recognize in these woods wouldn't make a sounds like these. The only reason they'd do that is if they knew they were the strongest thing in here."

Ezreal tensed at Teemo's foreboding comment. His self-preservation skills kicked in, the result of hundreds of battles as the primary target of vicious otherworldly creatures and Noxian assassins on the Fields of Justice. If something leapt out of the brush, he'd have to be quick with his reflexes to transmute his body away. Fortunately, he knew he had the protection of Janna, who floated next to him, her own magic at the ready.

A tree directly in front of them rustled, and Teemo took the front as the group expectantly watched for more movement. The faint whir of Rumble's mech could be heard as he prepared it for combat mode, and Tristana's normally jovial expression quickly hardened into the face of a merciless gunner. A knife could have cut the tension which hung heavily in the air as no one dared even breathe while the unknown predator lurked within the jungle.

A body was thrown out of the brush from which they heard the sounds. Teemo took a step backwards in surprise at first, but at seeing that it was motionless, rushed forward to examine it. Closer inspection revealed it to be the body of a cougar, which was commonly known to live in packs around the area, but Ezreal soon discovered that it wasn't just any normal feline. A shroud of magic engulfed the cougar's body as the group collectively gasped.

Lying prone on the forest floor, with cuts all over her exposed torso, lay the body of the Bestial Huntress, Nidalee.

* * *

**A/N: **a bit shorter than usual but here you go. With this update I finally hit 100k words within 4 months of writing, which is pretty good? I don't know, this is the first work I've written that ever got that far.

The Top Lane Brotherhood is something that I had just decided to string along on a whim. It seems like there'd be a lot of side material to write about with that group. Other peculiar members would include Dr. Mundo and Volibear. But just think about it, if you're playing a tank and the other top laner's fairly bulky as well, eventually you'll end up just farming and ignoring your lane opponent since you guys won't be killing each other any time soon. Now I almost never play them top lane, instead choosing to play Irelia &amp; Fiora a lot, so my lanes tend to be pretty exciting.

Hope you enjoyed reading. Next Irelia chapter will have Zed making an appearance on the side again, so you guys might actually find out what happened to him and why the hell he's in who-knows-where.


	21. The Dividends

"The shipment has arrived on schedule."

It was always difficult to tell when she had actually stopped moving, as hyperspace travel was quite different than experiencing momentum when running or moving in a vehicle. Braking suddenly caused a person to lurch forward in their seat, and although the teleportation medium provided a much higher velocity, there was no actual acceleration because a person's body never moved itself, but was merely being relocated. Only the sound of a man's voice indicating that she was no longer in transit alerted Irelia to the fact that they had reached their destination.

Irelia opened her eyes, having kept them squeezed shut quite tightly during the migration because the high concentration of light particles which would pass through them would surely blind anyone whose receptors absorbed that much energy. When her vision returned to her, she spied the familiar short black ponytail of a certain Demacian champion of few words, clad in an attire quite unorthodox of the seneschal.

Xin Zhao had chosen a very Western business attire more representative of the wealthy aristocrats and nobles of Demacia, as well as the wealthy individual patrons who had made the occasional appearance at the Institute to meet with its high ranking summoners. Never one to stand out, the spear-wielder took a traditional black suit and pants, along with black shades to hide his observant eyes as he sized up the incoming champions. He had seated himself behind a desk with a very complex control panel, which Irelia surmised was operating the transporter on the Demacian end.

"Good to see you, Xin," came her friendly greeting as the seneschal merely nodded in reply. Irelia never did spend much time around the majority of Demacian nobility, especially the crowd around the royal family and the Crownguards, and what little of the prince she saw, she was sure that she noticed his bodyguard even less. Still, she could divine that Xin was a dutiful man, courteous and to the point, which made for valuable traits among men seeking a military career in Ionia.

"Crownguard not here yet?" Jax asked of the seneschal, wasting no time in getting down to business.

"The commander is currently finishing up his rounds patrolling the city with the Dauntless Vanguard," Xin informed them. "Garen should be with us shortly."

Jax seemed surprised - once again, it was impossible for her to tell, but Irelia believed she knew him well enough at that point. "The elite task force of the Demacian crown doing some menial grunt work like law enforcement? Don't you have some other department for that?"

"The reconnaissance is more complicated than that," Xin explained. "That is all I can offer to you on that matter."

"I get it, classified information, yeah yeah, the whole nine yards," Jax said dismissively. "We'll still be able to draw up contingencies without him. Is the prince aware of how much trouble he's about to be in?"

Irelia found it strange that Jax would ask such a thing. _I would think that the prince's closest friend would surely inform him of the gravity of the situation, _Sona voiced her thoughts in Irelia's head, and the Ionian conveyed as such.

Xin's facial muscles contracted ever so slightly as Irelia realized they had touched upon a sensitive subject. He seemed to hesitate, considering the value of confiding in them before deciding it wouldn't do too much harm. "It is not as simple as that. Prince Jarvan has an obligation to appear as a representative of the state's power. The prince will be the lead spokesman at a state gala in the capital tomorrow evening, and we deemed it best not to inform him of the danger in order for him to maintain an unclouded mind when dealing with the various nobles and distinguished guests who shall be there. At the end of the day, while the prince takes his duties as a champion of the League very seriously, he is first and foremost the heir to the Demacian throne."

Jax nodded. "I see. The rest of the Lightshield retinue would have to be filled in to compensate, then. I'd presume the Half-Dragon would be in on this, the Crownguard girl… anyone else?"

"And the ranger. Quinn is undertaking one of her independent investigations into the affair," Xin added. "It is a meager defense, considering the scale of the attack, but it is all we could do given such short notice."

Irelia decided to cut in. "Okay, Jax, it always seems that you've already been thinking things two steps ahead of me and I'm in the dark. Back in Shurima you said this was going to be the biggest attack yet… so what's going on?"

The grandmaster turned to her, his shoulders dropping as he took a deep breath. "Right. I should probably slow things down for you two. In the early morning today I got a telegram from Garen reporting some abnormalities in the city streets that have been popping up ever since a few days ago. I had already staked out the possibility of the prince being a potential target by the Institute, but until further evidence popped up and other targets were already visited, I didn't think much of it now. Our information, to be fair, is half guesswork right now but it's much better to be safe than sorry."

_What sort of abnormalities, I wonder? _Sona mused, and Irelia asked them.

"Cracks and small ruptures in our roads. The most significant ones we've managed to pass off as malfunctioned manholes, but the teams of engineers who inspected it are confident it is no structural fault. It was premeditated sabotage, and there is good reason to believe it comes from the Institute," Xin debriefed.

She felt her blades grow restless as they slightly quivered upwards with anticipation. "So the attacker is already here. Shouldn't we be with Prince Jarvan, then?" Irelia asked.

"He will be alright," came a booming voice from the doorway. A muscular, absolute brick wall of a man entered the room, his frame nearly taking up the entire entrance. The Might of Demacia remained where he was standing as he spoke, exchanging short glances with Jax and Xin as he continued talking. Irelia could notice his brow dampened with sweat, the result of some effort making the rounds through the city.

"I entrusted Jarvan to the care of Shyvana," Garen reported. "He is in the middle of receiving a couple of Freljord ambassadors, and the labor of Demacia is never finished when it comes to strengthening ties with our allies. I trust you have filled in our new arrivals as to our situation, Xin."

"Of course," the seneschal replied. "To further answer Captain Lito's question, it would be unwise to take on the position of the prince's protection as of now. He must not act under the impression that he is a target by political enemies, so any meeting between you must be separate from our real business."

"That's correct," Garen affirmed. "You will really only be acquired on the night of the gala, as that is the prince's last public appearance for a while. Should the enemy not make their presence known there, it would be sufficient to reveal your true intentions."

"Keeping it on the down low, got it," Jax agreed. "You'll need us within shouting distance until then, cause the Institute sends their creatures at him any time between now and then, we'll need to be there as soon as we can."

"We have already prepared inconspicuous living quarters for you very close to the palace," Xin assured them. "As for the Maven, it is my understanding that the Buvelle residence already lies within close proximity, so if she wishes to visit home, that will not prove to be a problem."

A harmonious chord played through the air as Sona expressed her satisfaction. _It has been a while since I had seen Lestara. I would very much like to visit her, even for a short time, while we are here._

"So you two should be good to go for the rest of today," said Garen. "Feel free to take your pick of any of the establishments within the village just outside the palace if you ever are of want of food. I have given the owners explicit instructions to give you as much as you need on behalf of the crown."

Irelia was taken aback at the commander's generosity. "That's very kind of you, Garen, but I'm more than willing to -"

"The only thing I can't help you two with are finding proper outfits for the gala tomorrow," Garen pressed on. He gave a very skeptical look at Jax's robes. "As much as it is your style, Jax, you can't wear anything like that."

The grandmaster turned on Garen, as if daring him to say otherwise. "You're kidding me."

Irelia tried to hold back a small laugh. "Looks like I'll get to take you out shopping, then?"

A distraught Jax looked to Xin for help as Irelia and Garen exchanged understanding smirks, but the seneschal's expression remained as stoic as ever behind the shades. "I'm keeping the hood," he insisted.

* * *

For all its pandering about justice and righteousness, Irelia had to admit that Demacia was no slouch in its commercial sector. There were quite a few department stores which they had walked by, revealing a wide array of goods and clothing which was available to them, but upon a recommendation by Garen ("Go there, and you'll like the way you look. I Garen-tee it," he had joked as Irelia and Jax both painfully cringed), they entered a smaller, low-key tailor's business.

"I've never worn a suit my entire life," Jax told her as he looked out of his element for once. Awkwardly pacing around the perimeter of the store, he looked between the racks of suits resting on hangers attached to the walls and Irelia, looking like a child waiting for instructions from his mother on what to do.

Jax was absolutely flustered. And Irelia loved it.

"How am I supposed to pick one thing to wear out of all of these? They all look too alike for me to determine which one would be the best," he complained.

Irelia had to hold back her amusement as she directed him to a clerk sitting behind a desk at the back of the store. "You don't have to do much. Let the man over there give you your measurements, then you'll get to try out a few things and we'll see how they look on you. It'll be good for you to get out of those baggy old robes for once, anyways."

"It's not just a fashion statement, you know," he countered as he strode over hesitantly to the clerk, who seemed quite off guard at the realization that he was to service a champion of the League, and one who showcased an eccentric taste of fashion like Jax.

Very pleased with herself, she waved to Jax merrily before taking a seat near the front of the tailor's as she waited in anticipation of how he would appear in a more contemporary outfit. She had silently hoped for him to remove his ubiquitous hood while in the change of costume, but his adamant position on leaving the cowl on at all times ended her hopes there. Was he really going to all the trouble of compromising his appearance and looking absolutely ridiculous for the sake of remaining an enigma to everyone, even her?

Irelia was sure he couldn't keep the facade up forever. It was a real person hidden in those folds, as her experience the previous night had made sure. The lips that had connected onto hers were real, the genuine touch of someone who could harbor compassion, not just a killing machine molded by years of constant strife and conflict. And as long as she could lay a claim to it with conviction, it would be her belief to hold.

The moment had been so fleeting, however, that it was easy to doubt its reality. Their connection had only lasted for a couple of seconds, and amidst all the turbulent events happening all around her, it was easy for a seed of disbelief of two to materialize and grow into doubt. But Irelia refused to be disillusioned. She had never felt so fulfilled since the rematch between Ionia and Noxus which finally liberated the occupancy from the southern isles, and she intended to cherish that snapshot in time forever.

He had slowly drawn away from her that night, gently pulling himself away from her clutches. "There's still work that needs to be done. I'll see you in the morning."

Irelia's expression soured. "Work? At a time like this? What business could you possibly have in Shurima at this hour?" She didn't doubt the veracity of his claim, but she would have lied if that meant it didn't bother her. For every little thing he told her, there were always two other missing pieces to the puzzle Jax was holding back.

"I know, I know, my timing is terrible. But in these times, you've got to be flexible to the situation. Duty calls." He remained steadfast in his devotion to righting all the wrongs which had come out of that one night at the bar, the catalyst that sparked it all. Jax was always ready to go on the move, willing to drop one lead to pick up another if the circumstances called for it. Irelia could understand the necessity to make quick decisions, to objectively take the best strategy even though the ending would be messier than ideal. She could even imagine herself as just another path in the infinitely large flowchart constantly filtering through his mind. The thought made her grimace, as that was completely unsatisfactory.

She would find a way to be the only end worthy of his pursuit.

Her contemplations were interrupted as the clerk brought in a very befuddled Jax, who stiffly walked towards her in a grey suit which fit his form much better than his usual attire. Somehow, he had managed to keep that purple hood over his head, looking sorely out of place with the rest of his much more professional outfit.

Irelia's pensive thoughts dissipated as she smiled mischievously. "See, was that really all that bad? You look rather dapper."

Jax coughed. "I can barely move in this," he choked out.

She moved over to him, placing a hand over his chest and noticing another layer of clothing underneath the suit. "It's because you insisted on keeping those stupid robes on underneath the suit, silly."

"There's no other way I can keep the hood with me," he continued stubbornly.

Irelia sighed, realizing there was no way he would budge on the issue. "You don't have to make this so difficult. Tell you what. Instead of you wearing more layers than an Avarosan in a Freljord blizzard, we'll get a custom-made suit for you then, one where we can sew up a hood on the back of the collar for you." She looked to the clerk, who was still standing in stunned silence as if not believing what he was seeing. "That won't be a problem, will it?"

The young man stiffened and shook his head. "Not at all, ma'am. Little modifications are not out of the question when it comes to our service, especially for a distinguished League Champion for whom we had the privilege to serve."

Irelia smiled warmly. "Well, you can't possibly object to that, can you?"

Jax remained impassive. "I could very well."

Her shoulders dropped. She wasn't willing to press the issue on if he was going to continue being difficult, and although she almost completely fed up at this point, Irelia wasn't one to potentially make a mess out of such a small detail. Persuasion and coercion wasn't exactly her type of negotiation. Her thoughts turned to the Nine-Tailed Fox, whose more… charismatic mannerisms would surely have found a sweet-sounding sentence or two to say here that might have tilted the discussion in her favor. But Irelia and Ahri's personalities were very far apart - she never identified her gender as meaning anything significant relating to her personal ability, although tomboy would've been too strong of a label.

"But if it's what you want, I guess I can bear it."

And just as quickly, Irelia beamed. "I won't make you regret it, I promise."

"For both our sakes, I hope so," Jax deadpanned. He headed back to the changing room, the tightness of the outfit finally getting to him as Irelia consulted the clerk for the sewing on of the hood onto the suit they would make for Jax.

_I'll make him mine, one small step at a time._

* * *

Demacia's intelligence division was a lot less covert than Ionia's, Irelia decided.

Comparing the ranger to the highly disciplined experts of the Kinkou Order was hardly a fair evaluation to begin with, but Irelia had grown accustomed to being startled by one of the Triumvirate at the most inopportune times as they relayed their relevant information without any ceremony and disappearing just as mysteriously. Irelia couldn't remember the last time she had been the one to catch sight of Shen first, and even Akali, whom she had been decently close with for a good part of their adolescent years, had grown distant. The irony was bitterly humorous - the ninjas had probably been the only other people apart from Irelia who had been in her bedroom for quite a long time, yet she felt estranged from them most of all.

Irelia, therefore, felt very much at ease comparatively when Quinn descended gracefully from a rooftop as she and Jax were making their way back to the palace in the evening to get the final rundown of the situation from Garen and Xin. After the initial shock of having a young woman nearly drop on top of her, Irelia quickly recovered her senses. "Quinn. Word from the capital?"

"More or less. There's something strange going on just outside the city walls that I think it'd be important for you two to check out. I personally didn't sense anything, but Val basically just went crazy when he flew over this one spot," the ranger explained.

Going through the mental checklist of all the information she remembered about Quinn, Irelia realized she knew little. Quinn Heathcliffe, 1st Sergeant in the 7th Division of the Royal Demacian Army. She had risen up in the ranks upon the arrest of a prominent Noxian criminal with the help of her eagle, Valor, who fought constantly at her side and was regarded as the same unit as Quinn for all military purposes. A slightly aloof woman who kept to herself, she was still fairly friendly and easy-going from the few times Irelia had spoken to her. Besides those little tidbits, however, nothing.

"Hm," was Jax's only reply, a good three sentences less than Irelia expected him to say. Usually he had an idea of what was going on and would tell them a bit of information before chalking up some rudimentary plan, but the grandmaster was uncharacteristically short on words this time.

"That's all you got?" she jabbed at him.

"This Demacian campaign is probably the most confusing attack we've had to stop so far," Jax answered. "It's the one where I came in knowing almost nothing at all - and all my speculations are just ruined by all these random variables coming up. But it shouldn't be a problem once we get to the place Quinn is talking about. Lead the way."

Half an hour later, after being transported by company car to the nearest city gate, Quinn directed them to a nondescript grassy field on the other side of the walls protecting the capital. A cloudy sky slightly covered up the moon, leaving a faint source of light to shine upon the meter-tall reeds and brush which flanked both sides of a dirt road stretching outwards into the distance before turning a corner into the forest further back. Cicadas served as their only accompaniment, the late hour ensuring that no one else would be out wandering outside of the city at that time.

The blue Demacian eagle residing on Quinn's shoulder immediately began acting up, shifting uncomfortably and making a couple of strained cries as if it was complaining. "What's up, Val?" the ranger asked her bird.

Valor pointed his beak in a direction and lunged his head forward a couple of times while making a few more urgent sounds. "You hear something under us?"

"Are you actually telling us you understand what that bird is trying to say?" Jax asked, very skeptical of Quinn's interpretations.

"You wouldn't understand," Quinn claimed defensively. "Sure, you can't translate Val like you can translate ancient Shuriman or anything, but when you've been around someone so long, even the smallest hints from them mean a lot."

Any witty reply Jax could have made was interrupted by a strong tremor coming from under their feet as the earth shook, unbalancing their position and forcing Valor to take off to the air immediately as he hovered around in circles above them. Irelia's blades were going haywire as well, constantly circling around looking for an enemy, but there was nothing to be found. Jax had instinctively drawn close to her, trusty lamppost in hand as they stood back-to-back, trying to find the source of the disturbance.

"Earthquakes don't happen very often in Demacia, do they?" Jax called out over the subterranean rumbling.

"They've never happened as long as our history books can remember!" Quinn responded, her crossbow raised as well.

Irelia suddenly felt her legs give out under her and the gut-wrenching feeling of falling took effect. Looking at her feet, she witnessed the ground rapidly crumbling away as the three of them plummeted deep into a menacing darkness. Her limbs flailed wildly as she tried to stabilize, barely managing to keep control of her blades as they spun aimlessly in circles before she pulled them back to her. Jax was a few feet away, the folds of his robes blown back into his body due to their increasing downward velocity. He reached out with a gloved hand, which Irelia took as she latched onto the only thing she knew she had for sure as they continued to fall into the abyss.

* * *

Nothing terrified him more now than the sound of his own footsteps.

Captivity was the lowest form of existence for Zed, as a person who was unable to exert their will was nothing more than a slave, vulnerable to every whim and fancy the world could dream up. His time in the maze was not the typical enshacklement of bondage and chains which one would normally associate with slavery - rather, it was a whole different level of terrifying. Forever doomed to wander an endless labyrinth with a myriad of choices to make tormented the mind, the concept of infinity much too great for a limited psyche to comprehend. Zed had always dreamed big, aimed high, but never had he felt the implications and consequences of such ambition backfire on him as he did now. The scope of such immense possibilities, coupled with the danger of not knowing what lurked behind every twist and turn of the maze, whittled him down from the inside little by little, going for every scrap of his humanity.

To make things worse, she would never shut up.

Normally, whenever Evelynn got too close to another champion on the Fields of Justice, they would be able to see her as her powers had been toned down a little to encourage equal footing for all the champions. In an unconstrained environment, however, the horror of true stealth and invisibility finally came through. He was able to hear the sound of her heels clicking against the concrete floor, but it seemed that she only let him hear when she wanted him to. Evelynn would whisper some ominous warning in his ear, seem to walk away behind him… and then make her presence known in his other ear even as he swore the footsteps faded away in the distance. Soon enough, Zed had trouble deciphering what was real or not, and the dim lighting throughout the maze didn't help.

His eyes would be one of the last things to trust. A few times he believed he caught sight of a blue hand or foot flash around a corner or in the periphery of his sight, but whether that was attributed to his paranoia or Evelynn's natural knack of messing with him,, he could never be sure. All Zed had left was to keep walking on with nothing to hold onto but the faith that somewhere out there an exit, a solution, would present itself.

"Getting tired, Zed?"

He never answered her. The choice to give a response or not was the only thing left to him now, and he intended to keep his silence as long as he could. It didn't seem to deter Evelynn, however, as she seemed perfectly content with her monologue.

"It might be better for you to drop some of that unnecessary baggage," she suggested slyly. "Ninjas don't carry a lot around, though, do they?"

One step forward. One foot in front of the other.

"Maybe if you let go of your pride, you'd feel a lot more… free."

Zed's pacing slackened, if only for a second. She was really trying to get under his skin, and although he had undergone much worse in his time spent studying the shadows, simply enduring her venomous words was by no means an innocuous task. He was sure that the antagonistic dravel she was stirring up was trying to goad him into a response fueled by emotion, and he was not going to grant Evelynn the satisfaction of seeing him riled up.

"You know, I'm beginning to see why you took a liking to those little shadows," the temptress continued. "They don't weigh anything, after all." The last sentence made Zed shiver, an ominous chill shooting down his spine as he suddenly became aware of the shadow attempting to break free from him. When it was at rest, it acted like a very faint membrane, a thin shroud over him which he could cast off at will to become the shadow clone which was trademark of him. When under the magical confines of the Fields of Justice, the shadow's independent conscience was neutered, and Zed could fight without the looming threat of the shadow taking over. However, now that he was off on his own, it was liable to cause complications. Oddly enough it hadn't announced any of its urges yet, but when Evelynn mentioned it, Zed could feel it stir up within him.

The shadow never communicated with words - at least, not directly. It carried out its messages using emotions of intense degree just as a painter conveyed their feelings to their audiences with their art. Usually there were the typical passing urges of murder, the want to spill blood. Zed could easily repress those, and after hundreds of times pinning the shadow down its encouragement had become weak, almost half-heartedly. However, in this strange new world, this different dimension, it had taken up a new mantra.

Eradicate.

His most ultimate goal had been to eliminate all oppositional teaching to the Order of the Shadow. Zed had worked endless hours in making his own brotherhood strong enough to one day take down the Kinkou, and his focus against Shen was calculated and unrelenting. Yet he never wished to go so far as to completely obliterate their existence. The Kinkou had valuable knowledge, information he would, of course, modify and adapt to his own benefit, but not go to the point of completely obsolete it. The dark desire now swimming in his head, however, wanted more finality to it.

There was no doubt that Evelynn had done something to him, whether she had used the powers of the maze or not, and although Zed was willing to take physical and mental abuse to protect what he held most important, tampering with the shadow was nothing more than the folly of the wicked.

Evelynn once again reappeared in front of him, her visual unclear, but enough to where he could see the patronizing smile on her face.

"Well," she began, "did I strike a nerve? Zed, the Master of Shadows, breaking down and ready to kneel at my feet like a common servant."

It was enough. "Never."

Two of his shadow copies burst forth from him, coming at Evelynn's outline from two different angles while Zed materialized behind her, a black and red X marking her over her head. While champions usually began to either turn tail or fight him once they had seen the Death mark, Evelynn merely stood there and continued smiling. Furious at her apathy, Zed attempted to unleash a plethora of strikes at her neck, inner arms and stomach - all designed to incapacitate her quickly - but it was as if he was slicing through a hologram. Expecting a retaliation, he prepared to go back to the shadow left at his original position.

Except he couldn't. Some invisible bindings had held him in place while Evelynn continued to sneer at him, casually examining one of her scarlet nails. "You think the shadows are your ally, Zed? Humans like you are nothing to the power of the Shadow Isles. You merely adopted the shadows…" she postured dangerously as she disappeared once more.

Zed turned his head, catching a glimpse of his shadow behind him, struggling in the same position he was in before it went out in a puff of black smoke.

_"I was born in it."_

One clean slice, and Zed crumpled.

* * *

The ground felt the same. The pain did not.

There was no time for weakness, however. Zed never saw any point to gather his senses, as once he was able to act, it was likely there was a great need to. He tested his limbs one by one, however, making sure they were all functional lest he cause unnecessary injury to his body. The right arm hurt. A lot. So it had to be.

"Get up," a ghostly voice echoed. "It is not the time for weakness."

Zed knew the voice, but he had no time to dwell upon its origins as he heeded its command and carefully picked himself off the ground to a kneeling position, his one good arm stabilizing him as he looked around for the source of the voice.

"We have traced the dogs of the wicked to the den of their iniquity," the voice continued. "None can evade us."

The voice was off to his side, but between the long corridor's acoustics and the natural echoing of the voice, it may as well had been everywhere. Zed finally found its owner, a green and black spectre clad in the armor of the Shadow Isles. She held a blazing spear in her hand, the sting of which Zed had felt many times take his life on the Fields of Justice.

"Kalista," he managed. Hearing his own voice speak normally was slightly surprising - he didn't realize how weak he had become after such a long time wandering. Zed was unsure whether how much time had progressed, whether he had lost hours or days, but it may as well have been an eternity. The prospect of dealing with the Spear of Vengeance did not give much cause to hope, either. If she had marked him as a betrayer, it would be his unconditional end there and then. With the shadows unable to assist him, it would only be a matter of time.

She didn't seem to want to waste any time either, readying the spear as she threw it. Instead of his neck, however, it lay at a forty-five degree angle in front of him.

"We have heard your plea," she stated.

Zed had never specifically called out to her, or anyone, for that matter, regarding the matter of betrayal. There was no one he had made connections to outside of the order, and even within his inner circles, the bonds between them were rather thin. Still, the archaic sense of the spear-maiden was never faulty, and she would pursue the paths of all betrayers like an immortal bloodhound.

"What is your purpose with me?" he demanded. Now that he knew that she was here to negotiate with him rather than end his life, he felt a little more relieved to have an audience with Kalista, however off-putting the idea sounded.

"I can offer you the vengeance you seek," she promised, her gaze never wavering from his eyes. "All the bonds of trust you had were shattered. I cannot repair them… but I will gladly equalize your suffering."

The only thing she could have meant was the Institute's betrayal of its champions, the unnecessary slaughter of many innocent summoners that night at Gragas' bar. He recalled the last time he laid eyes on Syndra, the Dark Sovereign's sleeping form lying in a hospital bed as she recovered from the wounds to her magic the Dreamweaver had inflicted onto her. Wanting to make sure they were on the same page, Zed posed the question. "Your enemy is the Institute?"

"Every entity who has set you on this path towards oblivion," she explained, gesturing to the corridor which tunneled into the darkness further on. "You would have met certain destruction were you to carry on this accursed road."

He remembered the Delta Syndicate's members coming for Jax, Janna, and him in the wind mage's apartment, how he had sacrificed his well-being for them so the two could escape. If he hadn't been the one to buy time for them, he could have easily fled the scene, as he was a much more effective recluse than Jax, and harder to track with the aid of the shadows. The very ones which had been separated from him, he remembered as the flashback of the shadow dissipating in front of his eyes blinked in his memory.

A well of anger was building up within Zed, and Kalista could sense it. "Your desire for retribution burns wildly within you," she observed. "There is no need to disguise your intention."

Zed wanted to repress it, but his will couldn't last long enough for his impulses to kick in. "I will accept your offer, then, specter."

The smallest of smiles formed upon the Spear of Vengeance's face as she began the ritual. Zed suddenly felt a weight pierce through his chest as he grasped at the invisible spear stuck in him, struggling to keep himself on his knees. Kalista stood over him, a stony face paying no attention to his struggle as he continued to writhe. Finally, she wrenched it out of him as he fell once more, face striking the floor.

"The oath has been taken."

* * *

**A/N: **I'm not dead I swear. I just picked up playing League a bunch recently so I was doing that and not this, but at least I got a bit more inspiration to write this and I quite like what came of it. Maybe it's the fact that I switched scenes constantly, so there seemed to be a lot more action.

Zed/Kalista (not a pairing, but just the two teaming up and slaughtering everything) seems like it'd be really cool to be written out. I don't endorse Zed support in your adventures on the Rift, though.

I do really wish I could play Irelia, though, so many games on her and I'm not doing as well as I could be. At least with me spamming Irelia/Janna/J4 in soloq I'll be well versed for the upcoming chapters, especially the next Irelia chapter where Jarvan finally comes into the story :^)

This is almost a narrative representation to the nerf of Death Mark, which is a much more meaningful nerf to Zed over the attack speed decrease from a few months back, even though I had this Zed segment well developed before the ultimate nerf. I guess that works out in the end.

P.S: THE EVE/BANE REFERENCE I DIDN'T EVEN PLAN FOR IT TO HAPPEN IT JUST POPPED UP LIKE THAT


	22. The Depths of Conflict

One of the most basic rules of nature was that a feline at bay was extremely dangerous, and a wounded one even more so. Ezreal had half expected Nidalee to suddenly rise up snarling, vicious fury in her eyes, and pounce on him on the mistaken premise that he was an enemy. But the cougar didn't look like she was any condition to get up soon, and he was beginning to worry that the injuries may had been fatal. None of the group had been willing to advance, so Teemo took it upon himself to gingerly step forward, crouch down (it didn't make much of a difference), and examine Nidalee for himself. After a minute of scrutiny, he motioned for the group to advance forward as he revealed his diagnosis.

"No claw or teeth marks from any creature I'd know," the scout reported. "It's a bit different than the scratches I'm used to seeing around here."

"How can you tell?" Ezreal wondered. "The marks across her leg seem pretty normal to me. Well, normal enough for a banged-up leg."

The scout let out a soft sigh, pitying the explorer for his naivety. "When you've been around these parts of the wood as long as I have," Teemo calmly responded, "you pick up on a lot of things. You see those serrations?" he pointed to a group of three scratches etched diagonally across the cougar's exposed stomach. "Those are way too clean to come from a wild animal. Anything that would actually pose a threat to Nidalee would bear some claws much sharper and thicker. It looks like some kind of mechanical job, even."

As an ominous silence hung over everyone's heads, Ezreal decided to bring up what everyone was thinking. "Some kind of mechanized creature from the Institute? And this alpha predator decided to take up residence here in the jungle. Well, that's great. How are we supposed to track something like that?"

"If it was completely artificially created," Teemo mused, "it wouldn't leave any trail or scent for me to follow. I am an expert scout, but even I can't make something out of nothing."

"Well, you've always got an idea on you, don't you?" Tristana offered hopefully.

The scout looked back at the body, contemplating for a second, before coming to a realization. "I suppose there is one person who would be up to the task of finding Nidalee's attacker. Not exactly the most diplomatic of personalities, but he is simple-minded. There's no better offer than the thrill of the hunt for him."

Janna's eyes widened. "You mean you're going to call in…"

"Could those obnoxious sounds coming from your blasted contraption be any louder, yordle?" a powerful booming voice snarled from behind them. Rumble turned his mech around swiftly as he realized he was being addressed, stepping back to reveal the form of a large grey tiger slowly walking towards them out of the thicket. An eyepatch covered one of his eyes, a remnant of the only fight to the death in which his quarry ever escaped. He held a large machete in one of his hands and a wooden bola in the other, although his relaxed posture indicated he wasn't looking for any conflict… yet.

"Even without the stench you furballs and humans make, I could single you out from two miles away," Rengar swore as he sized up the company and the body of Nidalee lying in the clearing.

While Rumble looked quite offended and Tristana affronted, Teemo took the greeting in stride. "Just the cat I was looking for. Were you tracking the same creature that found Nidalee?"

The Pridestalker nodded, bending down to examine the cougar's injuries for himself. "A fine set of claws it has, I can be certain. It is similar to the mechanical adjustments my ultimate prey sometimes bears on the Fields of Justice."

"So you're able to tail it even though it doesn't give off any scent," Teemo guessed.

Rengar scoffed. "The beast's movements are an aberration. I could track it halfway back to the Plague Jungles in my sleep."

The only thing that could match the size of Rengar's ego was his impeccable prowess in his ability to track down targets with the help of only thickets. As a vulnerable marksman himself, Ezreal always feared walking near a bush on the Summoner's Rift whenever the Pridestalker was on the opposing team, as one wrong decision would lead to a giant shadow leaping upon you, a loud roar, and then the sound of a revival spell being cast upon you while you waited to reappear on the summoning platform as you were deleted from the map in a split second.

Even when the beast was on his own team, he was equally terrifying. Once Rengar had unlocked his ultimate ability, Ezreal would only hear two words coming from the predator when he decided he would roam to the bottom lane. "Follow up." A flash of claw and teeth, and the Pridestalker would more often than not walk away with a double kill. The only junglers who could match his otherwise unparalleled movement and ferocity were, interestingly enough, the cougar lying at his feet, the Blind Monk, and - Ezreal dared not say it to Rengar's face unless he had a death wish - Kha'Zix himself.

Rengar's intensity when he honed in on a target was on a plane of existence entirely on its own, but when the matter of the Voidreaver came into play, he transformed into an entirely different beast. Both of their teams, seeming to not want to interfere in the two creatures' jungle death match, called for less ganks than usual, even going so far as to halt any little skirmish they were in if Rengar and Kha'Zix were duking it out in the jungle or the river nearby. It was a waltz of death both incredible and terrible to behold, their movements perfectly countering each other as they fought at blinding speed, each trying to find an opening in the other's attack patterns. One would eventually come out on top, and although the tally of their tussels was not perfectly documented, each swore they were ahead by one bout in their rivalry.

"So, uh, where did it go?" Ezreal ventured to ask.

The Pridestalker turned on him, as if surprised to be addressed by anyone other than a fellow hunter, even if his competition was a yordle. "You may be the inquisitive type, explorer, but your snooping around may go one step too far. I am sure you know of the old adage. Curiosity killed the human."

"That's not quite how it go -" Ezreal tried to correct him.

"Nevertheless, it headed towards the southwest," the hunter informed them, with a turn of the head towards the indicated direction. "You may assist me if you wish, but do not dare to come between me and my prey when its end is near."

"And what of the cougar?" Teemo asked pointedly.

Rengar's face slightly contracted, contemplating what to do with Nidalee's body. Finally, he crudely pointed to Janna. "The healer can watch over her. We cannot afford to drag a straggler with us during the hunt."

The wind mage was offended, not wanting to be left out in the action. "So I'm just supposed to wait here until she wakes up?"

"Tristana can stay with you," Teemo decided. "You'll need to bring Nidalee back to Bandle before she can recover, and she's the one who can drive the car."

"This will leave three to accompany me in tracking down the beast," Rengar observed. He sized up the rest of the company, as if trying to decide whether they were acceptable. "Just be sure you don't burn down the forest, yordle," he warned as he addressed Rumble.

The blue yordle acted a lot more respectfully in the presence of Rengar, likely out of fear. "O-of course. Whatever you say, boss."

The Megling Gunner didn't seem too pleased with the arrangements, but decided not to add any complaints to the matter and accepted her delegation. "Well, I guess someone has to do it," she sighed, lowering her rocket as she looked over at the prone body of Nidalee and then Janna, who wasn't exactly a heavyweight. "But… Janna and I can't take her to the car from here by ourselves."

Rengar snarled. "Allow me," he insisted, scooping up Nidalee's limp body in one arm and gesturing for the two women to follow him back onto the path to the edge of the forest. "Can't get anything done properly unless you do it for yourself."

Janna turned to Ezreal before she left. "Don't get yourself hurt out there. I can't have my little Ez all ruffled up because I wasn't there to look out for him!"

The explorer had to roll his eyes. "Whatever you say, Mom."

She smiled mischievously. "Go get them, tiger," she bade farewell with a slight peck on the cheek. Ezreal would be lying if he said he wasn't pleased at her action, although he was taken slightly aback. In the corner of his eye, he thought he could see Rumble fume with envy.

That left Ezreal unsteadily standing with two yordles who couldn't be more different in appearance - on one hand, Teemo dressed in a stark black combat uniform, on the other hand, Rumble with a pair of overalls which he used to operate in the garage working on the mech in which he rode. The two weren't exactly on the friendliest of terms, which left him to be the mediator and source of conversation so as to not make the waiting time awkward.

"So, uh," he started, not enjoying the spotlight cast on him, "how's your guys' love life going?" It was the only question he could come up with, the memory of Janna's kiss on his cheek free in his mind, but he immediately felt uneasy asking it, scratching his head as he forced a very pained smile.

Teemo's expression couldn't be registered due to the mask covering his face, while Rumble turned a bright red (as crimson as a blue-skinned yordle could be). "It's uh… great! Yeah! The gals back home just love a guy who knows his way around machines, you know?"

The scout merely let out a snort.

Rumble turned on Teemo, his mech winding up as he revved up the harpoon propellers, wanting very much to release them. "Oh yeah? And you've got anything better to claim, big shot?"

Unflinching, Teemo returned the gaze. "Love is such a childish concept. When you've seen things I've found, done things I was forced to carry out… you just can't convince yourself the world's a lovey-dovey utopia like they tell us in storybooks."

"Geez, aren't you a downer?" Ezreal cut in.

Teemo didn't seem to regard his interruption. "She believes otherwise, and I couldn't sway her with my words, despite all the stories I told her at her behest. She wanted a chance that I wasn't prepared to give her. I guess the innocence of children is the only thing they have to treasure."

The scout's dark sermon merely piqued Ezreal's interest further, and he wanted to ask what his last few statements meant, but the return of Rengar put his speculation to an end.

"I shall have to modify our route to accommodate for some of our… larger than normal members," Rengar announced with a not so subtle jab at Rumble. "Because of this, it will take longer than expected if we are to track the creature to its den, so it is imperative that none of you slow me down." With his brief explanation he immediately set out down a grassy path deeper into the forest, Teemo immediately following in his wake while Ezreal hurried along in order not to fall behind so quickly, Rumble making up the back as he carefully maneuvered his mech around the wayward branches and leaves obscuring their vision.

Spring had come early to the Kumungu Jungle, the leaves sporting vibrant shades of green and yellow and wildflowers blooming strong from the trees' many branches. Rengar's steps were measured, hardly making a sound as if the forest floor was carpeted, yet moving swiftly as if he were ambulating on a Piltover monorail. Teemo's natural swiftness allowed him to keep his steps up on pace with the hunter although Rengar's strides greatly exceeded his, but Ezreal felt like a sore thumb with his almost bumbling gait. Even though he was no stranger to walking great distances in his constant exploration, half of the time spent out and about included analyzing ancient artifacts or navigating narrow crawlspaces in spelunking networks, neither of which required as strenuous of a pace as the Pridestalker set.

His lot was better than Rumble's, however. The yordle mechanic was furiously working the controls in order to avoid the myriad of outstretched tree limbs sticking out into the path, not only restricting his movement but also his vision. A couple of times he had considered merely taking his drill to prune some of the branches of the trees, but at the sound of the tool winding up, Rengar had spun around, causing Rumble to quickly withdraw it and continue grumbling as he hoped the machine wouldn't get entangled and malfunction.

What remained the same between his journeys and this undertaking, Ezreal soon found out, was the constant thirst he felt. Even with a canteen of water available to quench his thirst at times, the exertion of the tasks often left his tongue parched in desperate need of liquid, and this expedition was no exception. So his mood brightened upon seeing the forest open up slightly and a small stream cross their path, perhaps twenty feet across and a foot and a half deep. It bent around the trees out of sight on both sides, but to his right he could follow the path it took coming from an elevated hill within the forest. The shore of the body of water was littered with rocks of varying sizes, which got bigger as Ezreal looked upstream.

"Do we finally get a break from walking?" he asked hopefully, certain that Rengar would scoff at the idea and insist on them continuing. To Ezreal's surprise, however, the predator acceded.

"Try not to drown yourself in the river," was all the Pridestalker said as he walked into the thicket on the other side of the flowing body of water, probably planting traps or doing whatever it was that hunters did. Ezreal eagerly walked forwards, kneeling down in preparation to satisfy his thirst but backed out of it when he realized exactly where he was. Half of the things in the Kumungu Jungle were poisonous, while the other half were probably camouflaged animals that would kill you in a variety of ways. Both confused and desperate, he looked to Teemo for some kind of cue as to whether he could drink the water.

The scout gave a thumbs-up before he went off to consult with Rengar. "You should be fine."

It was all the go-ahead Ezreal needed to dip his face into the cool, refreshing water, and even Rumble hopped down from his mech to quench his own dry mouth. "Finally, a place where I don't have to worry about the top of my mech brushing against another clump of those god-forsaken leaves," he said in relief.

"Won't most of your weapons harm the forest if we had to fight?" Ezreal wondered. How on earth it took him long enough to come to that conclusion, the gods only knew; however, if his slow mind had only entertained the thought at this point and Rumble hadn't spoken up about the issue, then he reasoned that the yordle had accommodated for the consequences.

Unfortunately, it turned out that Rumble's train of thought had left the station later than Ezreal, for he stopped his crazed drinking and looked at the explorer with a great "uh-oh" expression which basically confirmed that the yordle planned nothing ahead of time regarding the upcoming battle. "Well, since the trees haven't come out this far next to the river, my Flamespitter shouldn't cause too many problems cause its radius isn't that large. My harpoons shouldn't be a problem for the trees either," he reasoned. Ezreal could agree with Rumble's logic, but it did leave a gaping problem: Rumble's most powerful weapon, the line of rockets known within League circles as The Equalizer, would not be available to them for the battle. Heralded as one of the most potent teamfighting ultimate abilities, his popularity among high-ranking summoners stemmed almost completely from the raw power of the weaponry, with its ability to either split a team from standing atop it to roasting an entire backline that had the misfortune to trap itself in an enclosed space.

Ezreal took the time to consider his own abilities. Short casts of mana-infused energy wouldn't have much adverse effects on the environment, but what about his Trueshot Barrage? It was on an entirely different level of energy, and the particles flew in a wide, V-shaped arc which probably would cause some disturbance to the wildlife. He decided to hold onto it unless absolutely required for a last resort, which meant they would be down two potentially powerful abilities. Their unknown enemy, on the other hand, would have no issue unleashing its entire strength on them, as the Institute's creatures would have no reservation in damaging all they had to in order to achieve their goals. Just another disadvantage of fighting with this whole justice ideal in mind, Ezreal thought mirthfully.

His meditations were interrupted by the uncharacteristically loud sound of Rengar and Teemo darting back through the brushes back to their side of the river at a breakneck pace. Ezreal was about to ask what was going on, but the large black creature directly behind them answered his question. What actually caught him off guard, however, was the familiarity of the beast. Up to this point, Jax and Irelia said they had never ran into the same monster, encountering different types of agents whenever they showed up to the defense of another champion, but Ezreal knew he had fought it before. After all, it had just popped up to block their path in Shurima.

"So it's you again, explorer," the Droughtgiver remarked in mock greeting.

Ezreal immediately adjusted into a combative stance, turning sideways in order to make himself a smaller target, as well as aim better with his gauntlet. "Haven't had enough of losing to us, little bugger?" he taunted.

It was an odd sight to find Rengar surprised, but in the corner of his eyes, Ezreal could see the bewilderment on the Pridestalker's face. "You know this beast?"

"I had the pleasure of defeating this thing in the deserts of Shurima the day before," Ezreal told him. "Even with the help of that Darkin, this bug didn't stand a chance."

"Only due to the intervention of that blasted celestial spirit," the scorpion spat vehemently. "But there will be no gods to save you today." With the last few words he ejected a wide spray of acid towards the champions at a high velocity. While Ezreal was able to Arcane Shift out of the way just in time, Rengar rolled to the side behind a couple of rocks, and Teemo merely fell to the ground as the corrosive liquid flew above him, Rumble couldn't get his mech to register his movement commands nearly as quickly and a good amount of the acid tore through the machine, its caustic nature slightly eating through the material.

"What?" Rumble yelped, horrified at the damage the scorpion could do to his mech as he backed away out of the range of the acid. "You'll pay for that, I swear!"

The Droughtgiver sneered, readying another barrage of acid while Ezreal attempted to equal his firepower. Unloading a couple of energy blasts from his gauntlet, he relentlessly unleashed his own arsenal of attacks upon the black scorpion, only to see the blasts absorbed by a shield which had previously been invisible. The shield disappeared once the shots had ceased, leaving Ezreal perplexed on what to do.

_My magical attacks aren't doing anything. I can try recalibration to a different form of energy, but I'll need some time._

He looked to Rengar, who still lay down behind the rocks. "Buy me some time so I can change the energy in my gauntlet," he told him of his strategy, and the hunter nodded. Sneaking into a thicket on the edge of the river, he proceeded to leap at the scorpion, a claw preparing to inject itself into its armor. At the same time, Teemo had suddenly appeared on the other side of the scorpion and fired blowdart after blowdart into the face of the Droughtgiver, hoping to blind it from counterattacking, if not poison it outright.

Their efforts proved almost useless, as the scorpion merely shrugged off the assaults and lashed out with its tail to knock Rengar back into the rocks while its right pincer threatened to crush the scout in its grip, advancing on the yordle savagely as Teemo quickly backed up. Rumble had finally gotten himself and his mech together, firing a couple of electrically charged harpoons at it in an attempt to slow down the monster as it continued to pursue Teemo. The annoyance gave the scout just enough time to take cover in the reeds of the river, which were tall enough to hide his short stature.

Ezreal was staring at the settings of his gauntlet, which indicated that the process to convert his energy was still loading. "Damnit, you stupid machine, work faster!" He looked up to see another wave of acid come towards him, not bothering to attempt to Arcane Shift away and simply just diving onto the ground and hitting the forest floor with a painful thud. Wincing upon impact, Ezreal hurriedly rolled to the side just in time to witness a giant tail ready to stab at him.

A bola snagged onto the Droughtgiver's appendage, however, impeding its movements long enough for Rumble to jump forward and unleash his Flamespitter directly into the scorpion's face. This move proved fairly effective, and the scorpion howled in pain. Seeing that the advantage had turned towards their favor, the group approached from several angles, with Rengar once again leaping onto its back and finding no opposition as the flames prevented the scorpion, who was focusing on retreating out of Rumble's range, from doing anything significant back to the Pridestalker. Teemo's darts still hadn't proved very effective, so he had resigned himself to taking a couple of noxious mushrooms from his knapsack and throwing them into the thicket where he thought the scorpion would most likely try to escape.

In the meantime, Ezreal's gauntlet's system had finally completed its switch in settings and he began firing shots anew, these particles not as highly charged with energy but coming up more frequently. While they appeared to do less damage, he could sense the creature expressing pain from the particles, and he continued to press forward, strafing to the side every now and then when it shot out poison, but in a much smaller concentration. It was proving to be an easier fight than the one in the desert, although Ezreal was still wary of the tricks the scorpion had up its sleeve, like the swarm of smaller insects it had sent to engulf them all. He figured that if another situation arose like that, they could stand their ground in the river and force them away, especially with the area of effect damage that Rumble's Flamespitter could provide.

Their advantage was short-lived, however, when Rumble's flames prematurely died out as his mech began to overheat. Ezreal heard the yordle yell in surprise as the machine began to glow reddish-orange from the inside, and he immediately pulled away from the scorpion as he tried to settle his machine down. No longer being harassed by the flames, the Droughtgiver regained its strength, swinging quickly in an arc to throw Rengar off its back. With blinding speed it almost flew towards Ezreal, who could not dodge in time and felt its entire body slam into him as he fell to the ground, the wind knocked out of him. He felt another of Rengar's bolas aim for the scorpion's claws, but it merely shoved the projectile aside as it pinned down Ezreal's body, preparing to unleash a fatal blow onto the explorer. With his limbs unable to move and his gauntlet rendered useless, Ezreal closed his eyes and looked away, waiting for the pain to come.

He felt nothing but the continued pressure of the creature's weight upon him, and suddenly it was lifted as he heard a predatorial hiss followed by the sound of two bodies colliding and crumpling to the ground. When Ezreal next opened his eyes he caught sight of the scorpion knocked over on its side and a purple mantis running towards it with both of its claws ready to pierce through its exoskeleton. Kha'Zix lunged savagely, but the scorpion was able to get out of the way just in time.

Rengar wasn't sure where to direct his aggression, deciding to enter the matter with a question. "Why are you here, bug?"

The Voidreaver avoided making eye contact with him, its attention focused on the scorpion. "You cannot hope to take down this creature by yourselves," he snarled. "And I will not let this weaker scum defeat you before I can myself."

Another wave of corrosive acid came forth, this time into a greenish ball completely focused onto Kha'Zix, but an expertly tossed bola intercepted the shot and caused the sphere to burst as both Rengar and Kha'Zix nimbly sidestepped the projectiles flying from the center of the explosion. "I would say the same thing."

Ezreal tried to stand, but he found that his leg refused to cooperate, despite his brain's urges. Resigned to his fate as a spectator for the remainder of the battle, he used the last of his remaining strength to crawl into the bushes and simply keep his eyes open as the two predators joined forces for what Ezreal mused would be the first and last time ever.

* * *

Automobiles were not the most comfortable traveling vehicles for cougars, as their experience with a very unhappy Nidalee proved to Janna.

Tristana elected not to stop the car, banking on the cougar's natural resilience allowing her to carry through the ordeal and possibly get used to her motion sickness, but Janna thought otherwise as she once again listened to the huntress unload the contents of her stomach onto the floor of the very expensive Bandle City car. Like the new models which came out in Piltover every year, the vehicle showed state-of-the-art interior design, with leather seats, ample leg room, and a hi-tech dashboard which displayed information from wind speed to road incline. Everything was designed for both optimal performance and appearance, unlike the cars of Zaun, where a metal trash dispenser was located in the backseat of every motor vehicle, intended for disposing of the waste of any chemical experiment which had to be conducted on the road and doubling as a paper bag for inebriated partygoers to dislodge their vomit. Janna supposed that was the only advantage Zaunite technology had on Piltover's or Bandle's, but she recognized how invaluable that utility would have been in this situation.

Eventually, they had returned to the parking garage of the laboratory into which they had teleported earlier that day, and with great effort she and Tristana were able to drag the very weak cougar into one of the rooms, bringing a mat out for Nidalee to lie onto as Tristana ran to fetch some medicine from the medical staff stationed nearby.

The wind mage bent down to look at the face of the huntress, pale and strained as she tried to recover. Janna's magic had some healing capabilities, but compared to a true healer like Sona or Soraka, she wasn't able to do much, as her shields of wind served only to block damage from being inflicted, not reverse it. Still, the cool breeze seemed to calm Nidalee down, and her ragged breathing dissipated and returned to a normal pace just as Tristana returned with a couple of pills in hand and a glass of water.

"Take these," she instructed as Nidalee weakly reached out for the pills and forced them into her mouth. Janna took the glass of water, pouring the liquid into the cougar's mouth as Nidalee swallowed the medicine with a bit of effort. Modern science really had come far, Janna thought as she saw Nidalee regain some of her color back, gaining the strength to move into a sitting position.

"You yordles never fail to impress me," she commended of Tristana. "Thank you." Turning her gaze to Janna, she smiled. "Your help was appreciated as well, sorceress."

"It was nothing," Janna and Tristana uttered in unison before looking at each other and exchanging sheepish grins.

"That creature who wounded me," Nidalee recollected, a grimace forming onto her face. "What became of it? I knew Rengar was attempting to stalk the beast, but it seems it found me before he did…"

"We don't know," Janna filled her in. "The two of us had to bring you back to Bandle, while the guys stayed in the forest to find it. Rengar knew where it was and promised to find it for all of us, but we don't know how they're doing out there." She took the time to give Nidalee a brief summary of what their business was in Bandle, about all the monsters the Institute had sent after them, and the group effort Jax and Irelia had spearheaded in their quest to counter the Institute's nefarious plot. The cougar listened on in awe and fright, appalled at the idea of such heartless desire.

"They'll be alright," Tristana chipped in. "Teemo and Rumble are two of the best fighters in the League, and Rengar's an absolute terror to face when he's at home in the jungle. Especially with Ezreal backing them up, there's no way they can lose."

Janna couldn't help but feel relaxed with the yordle's optimism, but with her past experiences with the Institute's monsters being able to take on multiple champions easily, the worry rooted in her continued to tug at her skin. "For all our sakes, I would hope so."

Nidalee suddenly jolted up, an action which also caused Janna to flinch as she looked at the two with trepidation in her eyes. "I've just remembered what it was doing there. This is not good; we have to go back to them," she insisted as Tristana looked at her in bewilderment.

"What? Why?"

"It did not strike me down simply because I am a champion of the League. It chased after me because I was the sole witness to a plan it was hatching within the jungle," Nidalee informed them. "What do you humans call that mechanical trap which turns into smoke and fire when something steps onto it?"

"A mine?" Janna offered.

The cougar nodded. "Within the forest, it had set up dozens of these things, perhaps every thirty yards or so. I was sure that some wild animals would set them off eventually, but nothing happened, so I continued to follow the creature as it kept placing them down. It only turned on me after it sensed me through my cover."

Janna had realized the full implications of Nidalee's story, her face turning white at the revelation. "There's an entire minefield in the Kumungu Jungle."

* * *

**A/N: **only took me like two and a half weeks but WE DID IT. Rengar's here to do badass stuff and I quite enjoyed writing him. this half of the plotline is harder to write for me since I'm not as invested into the characters (sorry Ez but Jax and Irelia over all) but I got it to work. so much plot to fit into a chapter, compared to when I was writing Dauntless and I could spend so much time in getting the feel of the story right.

Rengar and Kha'Zix cooperating might be a bit controversial but I had something in mind when we pick up the fight later, so their story is not finished.

If you've been following Trinity for a while you should also check out my other story Dauntless, it's a pretty cool Jax/Irelia story as well which is kind of a prequel to this but not really because the characters are too-well developed already lol.


	23. The Demacian Standard

When she died, the first thing she noticed was the cold.

The remnant beating of her heart, coupled with the faint source of heat coming from underneath her, informed Irelia that she was still alive and kicking. She tried to examine her surroundings, but she might as well have kept her eyes closed as the darkness completely obscured her vision with how far down she was. Glancing upwards, she thought she could make out a miniscule spark of color, a tiny piece of the night sky all the way across the infinite chasm as the only indicator that the world had not yet been swallowed by blackness.

Looking back down, several movements of her hand as she tried to raise herself into a sitting position revealed that she had actually been lying upon another human being. The familiar texture of old robes made her realize what had happened when the earth collapsed all around them - during their descent, Jax had positioned himself to ensure that he took the brunt of their impact when they reached the bottom, a fact which coaxed an embarrassed smile out of Irelia. Even if they now lay in the valley of the shadow of death, she would fear no evil, with him at her side.

However, he could only protect her if he himself was in adequate condition, a fact which spurned Irelia into action. First she turned to Jax, checking to see if he was alright, or even still conscious. A hand placed upon his chest gave Irelia the assurance she needed, knowing that Jax was still breathing, and she began to lightly shake him in the hopes of bringing him to full awareness. He was a stubborn one even when not consciously doing it, his unmoving body refusing to budge despite her persistency, and only when she had progressed to actually slapping him a few times in the face did he finally stir.

"Huh - hey, hey, hands off!" he protested as he finally came to his complete senses. She gave him space to sit up as well, and the sounds of an eagle crying out somewhere in the darkness made Irelia remember there were two others sharing in their captivity. She tested the sturdiness of her legs, finding them sufficient enough to carry her weight, albeit wobbling a bit, and urged Jax to come follow her, an outstretched hand helping him up.

"Can you stand?" she asked.

"Uh-huh," came his reply, less energetic than usual.

With both of them miraculously unharmed for the most part, Irelia led the way through the darkness, gently pulling Jax by the hand to ensure they would not get separated, and followed the sounds of Valor in the distance. Effectively having six arms which could check the space in front of her thanks to the movement of her blades, Irelia could check the passageway for any nasty drops or rocks jutting in front of them. They eventually came to the source of the eagle's sounds, and the blackness still obscured their sight, although the insistent flapping of wings as Valor landed on a perch indicated that the ranger was within fifteen feet of them.

"Quinn?" Irelia called out uncertainly.

"Right here," the ranger started to reply, but then realized the uselessness of such a statement without the ability to see. "I guess it doesn't matter where I am, but I've walked about ten feet in all directions from this point and the ground seems pretty stable. Besides a few scratches on my arms I haven't been too injured. How's things on your end?"

"More or less the same," Irelia responded. "I don't think we've broken any bones, but we haven't had any better luck trying to make sense of our position."

"Can't really ask for more," Quinn mused. "Let's do our best to explore what we have to work with, then. It's best if we stay together, so try and keep the same distance from the sound of my voice. I'm moving in the direction completely opposite of where your position is to me," she relayed with all the formality of a trained veteran.

Leading the way through the dark was difficult, but following was even harder, and if the periodical squawks from Valor hadn't alerted them to the pair's position every so often, they would've most likely gotten lost. Quinn tried to talk as much as she could, giving the status of the terrain upon which she walked so Irelia and Jax could brace themselves for any changes ahead of time, but as far as they could tell, there weren't any sudden shifts which would make navigation difficult. On the contrary, they seemed to be slowly ascending, the contours below their feet hinting at a subtle vertical incline.

The environment was hardly a pleasant walk, but as they continued their stroll in the dark, unable to sense anything outside of the rocky ground beneath their feet and the sounds of their footsteps reverberating along the walls clashing with the tomboyish voice of Quinn ahead of them, Irelia was almost beginning to feel complacent, the blades at her side no longer on edge like they had been at the beginning of their ordeal. She had tried to catch every word of the scout's mini-lecture on her work mapping the layout of Demacia and the land surrounding it, but Irelia was a visual learner just as much as an auditory one, if not more, and found it difficult to comprehend the meaning to her sentences without a visual cue to follow. Retaining less and less with each coming sentence, Irelia began to sink into her own thoughts.

Naturally, her father was the one who molded into her the ability to stand up strong without any light to guide her path. In a cruel twist of fate, both Master Lito and the Dark Sovereign shared the same ideology: people fear what they cannot understand. From a young age, Irelia's father had encouraged her in gaining experience in dealing with situations where she would have to act in the dark, giving her various tasks to complete. They ranged in difficulty from things so elementary like tying her shoes to blocking the strikes from his training sword. And unlike most other children her age, Irelia no longer feared the dark for taking away what she knew was there in front of her. She was able to retain her focus without the luxury of sight to guide her, narrowing in on what she knew was available to her and working from that.

"...and that's all I'm aware of regarding any secret passageways in Demacia," Quinn was saying. Irelia's muscles twitched as she became aware of her surroundings again, and she did her best to tune back into the present conversation.

"This passageway is much too long to be considered natural," Jax replied from behind Irelia.

"You're right," the scout agreed, "which makes its existence all the more concerning. There has to be an end to this cavern, and I'm afraid we won't like what we find when we get there. Whatever the Institute sent out to attack the prince is likely to be lurking down here, and it's only a matter of time before we run into it."

"We're not going to be able to fight it, especially in the position we're in," Irelia cautioned. "Our priority should be trying to find a way out."

"Easier said than done - hey, I can see something up ahead! I'm not sure what it is, but the fact that I can make out anything considering how pitch black it is in here is important enough!" Quinn's excited voice came through. They followed the sound of her voice once more, Valor pitching in with a couple of loud cries, until they reached a very dim light source, barely bright enough to identify other colors apart from black, yet strong enough for Irelia to realize they now stood in a wide circular space. The ray of light granting them their limited vision came from far above them, another crack in the ground allowing the moonlight to shine upon them. At the other end of the space, she saw a second narrow passage which continued to lead upwards towards the surface, although Irelia couldn't tell how close or far off they were.

"That seems like it would be our best way out," Irelia reasoned.

Valor let out a warning growl, which Quinn immediately picked up on. "It looks like we've got company."

"Is it down here with us? Where is it coming from?" the Ionian asked.

Quinn drew closer to them, allowing Irelia to finally catch the ranger's expression, a mixture of apprehension and vigilance. "I can sense its movements by myself now, but something doesn't seem right. The only two entrances into this chamber are from where we entered and the passage over there, yet I hear the vibrations coming from...underneath us?" The ground began to rumble as Irelia felt her legs begin to unsteady.

"Run!" Jax prompted, pulling Irelia with him as he made for the passage at the far end of the space, with Quinn and Valor hot on their heels. The tremors continued with every step they made, threatening to knock Irelia off her balance as she struggled to meet Jax's frantic pace. A loud shriek filled their ears, the narrow space of the tunnel magnifying the sound as Irelia cringed upon the sound piercing her eardrums. Encouraged by the scream to redouble their efforts, the group lumbered up the stony passage, the obscurity returning to cloud their vision as Jax was forced to hold back on his breakneck speed, resigning himself to a jog as each of them hoped they wouldn't stumble on a misplaced rock.

"It's gaining on us," he noticed, swearing under his breath as another shriek came from the unknown creature, the even louder sound indicating it had drawn closer, and the continued tremors increased in magnitude as well, making it even more difficult to retain their footing. Valor passed by them like a blur as Quinn called out urgently. "We can't deal with it in closed quarters like this! Stay onto Val, he'll try to get us out in the open!"

With the faint trace of the Demacian eagle in her sight, Irelia willed herself to continue running, her thoughts split equally between ensuring her footing remained secure and keeping track of Valor's position. Combining the two difficult tasks, which demanded a significant amount of effort alone, nearly drove her to exhaustion, but she knew the alternative was unacceptable, and forced herself to go on. The incline eventually grew steeper to the point where they could no longer run along the path, and Jax took to scaling the rocky diagonal now standing in their way. Irelia grabbed onto what handholds she could find on the incline's face and followed in his wake, trying to block out the recurring screams of the predator stalking them. Quinn brought up the rear, a precarious position Irelia would have hated to be in, scrambling up the wall as soon as they made space for her. If she found the blind running difficult, scaling a ledge through her previous fatigue nearly killed her. The creature behind them actually would, though, so she summoned the willpower to keep going.

Her joints began to show weariness as she struggled to continue lifting her arms to meet the next few handholds. While certainly not a slouch in her personal fitness, Irelia would hardly consider herself on par with physical behemoths like the Might of Demacia or the Hand of Noxus. Jax certainly appeared to be just as strong as any warrior with a military background, and she wagered even Quinn would have developed enough stamina during her numerous exploits around Valoran tracking down spies and criminals. She made a mental note to redouble her training when she returned to Ionia. If she did manage to make it out alive of this.

The crest of the wall finally came into view with the appearance of the dim moonlight once more. With a herculean effort, along with some help from Jax, Irelia dragged herself to the top of the cliff to find herself near the end of the tunnel and the promise of finally escaping the depths made visible with an opening both large enough for humans to pass through and accessible on foot a few hundred yards away. Naturally, Jax and Irelia gave each other one look before sprinting towards the exit with all the speed left for them to muster. Valor continued to fly ahead of the trio, continually growling at them - whether they were sounds of encouragement or danger, only Quinn could understand.

They were not the only ones to successfully ascend the cliff face. Crunching sounds coming from behind them indicated that their pursuer would not give up any time soon, and realizing how she did not even know what it looked like, Irelia gave into her curiosity and dared to turn her head back over her shoulder.

She instantly regretted that decision.

A gigantic maw, housing several rows of jagged teeth, loomed behind them, accompanied with four pairs of appendages it used to pull itself towards them. Not only did it move at frightening speeds, but it also seemed to be tearing into the terrain itself. The already unstable ground upon which they ran was composed of loosely held dirt and rocks which the creature was quickly destroying, causing the path behind them to slowly crumble away down the ledge from which they climbed up. Had they moved any slower, they would have slid down with the ground and straight into the belly of the beast.

It was now rapidly gaining on Quinn, who didn't even bother trying to aim bolts from her crossbow at it, instead focusing on putting as much space between her and the predator as possible, but it simply wasn't enough for the scout. In an act of desperation, she called Valor back, trying to dissuade its attempts to pull her under by having the eagle strike it. "Go for the eyes!" she commanded, and the creature emitted a shriek of pain as Irelia guessed that Valor's talons met his mark. Irelia thought they had finally gotten out of the mess, but a surprised cry of distress from Quinn made Irelia turn around once again.

The creature had extended an appendage and caught the scout by the leg, swiftly pulling her down towards it. Thinking quickly, Irelia launched her blade towards its arm, wounding the creature and forcing it to loosen its grip on Quinn, who was still sliding down under the unstoppable force of gravity. Instinctively, Irelia shot forward, managing to get a hold of Quinn's hand before she got out of reach. For a moment, she thought she had saved the day, until she realized they were now both plummeting down into the chasm, Irelia's momentum dooming them.

A strong arm had caught her by the leg, and Jax's constant observance of the situation had saved her once again. He was standing right on the edge of the tunnel before the ground collapsed, leaning towards Irelia with one hand while the other was clinging onto something - Irelia couldn't tell as she was already halfway over the ledge, but something had to hold him in place.

"You're finding a lot of crazy ways for me to save your skin, aren't you?" he quipped, and if Irelia wasn't holding onto Quinn for dear life, she would've slapped him.

"Just shut up and pull us out of here," Irelia snapped.

When they had safely reached solid ground, they only had to drag themselves a couple of hundred feet before finding themselves standing upon the earth, with the promise of an open sky above them. Irelia noticed Jax's incredibly dusty robes, as well as Quinn's terribly unkempt uniform, and deduced she wasn't looking much better.

"So," Jax began, as the two women turned to him expectantly. "We're going to have to deal with that tomorrow, aren't we?"

"I'm afraid so," Quinn answered gravely. "Something which can tear giant sinkholes into the ground and burrow tunnels underneath the earth - that's a lot like the Void Burrower, but this is a beast much larger and ten times scarier. Not to mention that mouth…" The scout shuddered at the memory.

"How are we going to handle something that'll just destroy the building we'll be in?" Irelia asked. "I can't imagine staying underneath a roof would be very safe."

"We could always arrange for the gala to take place outdoors, it seems," Quinn mused before sighing in frustration. "I'll try to contact the Crownguards and see if they can relocate, and considering the lateness of the hour, I'm not going to get any sleep before this attack." Landing on her shoulder, Valor cawed in imitative frustration as well.

"I guess we'll have to head off too," Jax said, until realizing how they were nowhere near the city walls. "I don't suppose you can call a taxi from here?"

Quinn looked out towards the horizon, then at Jax, before dropping her shoulders in despair and sending Valor out to notify the nearest Demacian sentinel of their location.

* * *

Demacians understood subtlety - maybe a select few champions of the League whose names Irelia wouldn't mention didn't grasp the notion, but she had to admit how the staff under the command of the royal family never once questioned their motives or the strange appearance in which Jax and Irelia presented themselves when a private automobile met them on the outskirts of the capital roads to take them to their temporary residence near the palace.

"I never did think what sort of accommodations they prepared for us," Jax was saying as he opened the front door of the single-story villa. Turning on the lights, a modestly furnished living room greeted them, very much created with the Demacian interior design model in mind. The crest of the city-state hung above an unused fireplace, and a couple of leather chairs lay on opposite sides of a long table upon which a copy of the Measured Tread and several history books rested.

"Typical," Jax yawned as he bypassed the rest of the decorations and went to examine the rest of the house. Irelia inspected the rooms as well, finding two bedrooms, a master and a guest room. She headed towards the larger of the two, eager to slip out of her well-worn clothes, catch up on sleep after the day's tiring and heart-pounding events, curl up in the comforting embrace of his arms...

"Well, I guess I'll see you in the morning," Jax's voice called out, interrupting her reverie as he made his way towards the guest bedroom. It took a few seconds for Irelia to realize he wasn't intending to join her in the master bedroom.

"Wait, where are you going?" she asked.

Jax stopped in the doorway, his figure betraying no emotion. "Getting some sleep. Aren't you tired too?"

"Well, yeah… but I was hoping you'd come and stay with me," she requested innocently. Jax looked like he was about to shut the door on her right then and there, but looked at her with an expression indicating for her to continue. "With all the attacks going on recently, I'd feel a lot safer," Irelia fallaciously argued, fully aware that her logic only made partial sense.

"I'll probably hear your screams across the hallway," Jax dismissed it and turned to leave before he changed his mind, rotating back one hundred eighty degrees, sighing, and joining her in the bedroom. "You're some next level of crazy, woman."

"Is it too much to ask for a girl to get some company?," she continued her naive persona. The grandmaster came as close to rolling his eyes as Irelia could make out from the faint glow under his hood and with a sigh of resignation dramatically threw himself onto the bed.

"Now just because this wasn't your idea doesn't mean you can be lazy about it.," Irelia protested. "Get up and change out of those rags. They didn't stock this house without more than enough changes of clothes for a reason, you know," she scolded him as she examined the bathroom and found a very enticing bathtub.

"I really could use this," she thought to herself, not realizing that she had spoken her words out loud. She could hear Jax snort behind her.

"If you're going to fall asleep in the tub, at least let me use the washroom first." He moved past her, grabbing a towel from the rack, and was about to shut the door on her when Irelia propped the door open with one of her blades, forcing herself in to the dismay of a very confused Jax.

Beginning to unfasten the knot at the back of her blouse, she winked at him. "There is room for two in here, you know."

* * *

A resounding crack drew out another series of screams as the end of the whip came down upon the already battered skin.

Zed tried to hide his discomfort as he continued to watch the warden's session of delightful agony, as Thresh called it. Although the victim of his torture had been long dead, the creatures of the Shadow Isles seemed to be able to draw out the essence of the deceased's souls and interact with them in ways which could draw out their senses in order to inflict continued pain. The spirit, covered in a green glowing mist characteristic of the Shadow Isles and shackled to a metal pole, writhed as Thresh threatened to bring down the whip onto its exposed back once more.

The Chain Warden cackled at Zed, noticing the ninja's not so subtle attempt to create as much space between the two of them as possible. "Enjoying the scene, Master of Shadows? I would think you out of all people would able to stomach torture. You do know your very good friend Shen had to sit and watch the Kinkou Order torture his father for hours. Compared to that, this little… operation on a soul you don't even know should be nothing."

Zed made sure to never get on Thresh's bad side; on a related note, he wasn't quite sure if he was already on Kalista's bad side. The spectral warrior had taken him out of the maze through some sort of phantasmic power, and he woke up in a cabin of a ghostly ship which was sailing the ocean. When Zed had inquired towards their destination, he only received a cryptic response.

"We go to the source of betrayal."

Trying not to shiver in the chilling night air, Zed decided to turn his attention towards the black waves which moved past the ship. He reasoned that they were somehow near Freljord, as he could see icebergs in the distance and fragments of glaciers coming off the mainland floating in the water. No other place would draw temperatures so low. As their journey continued, the surface of the ocean began to grow icier, and Zed noticed more and more patches of ice floating upon it. Upon further inspection, he believed he saw objects within the ice. Objects shaped very conspicuously like…

"This is the punishment for all betrayers," Kalista's voice suddenly appeared next to him, causing to jump back out of fright. Ignoring his reaction, she continued. "For shattering the trust which bound them to others - family, benefactors, kings, countries - the only justifiable recompense for cold, heartless sinners is to be frozen themselves."

"So the Shadow Isles created this punishment for them," Zed guessed warily.

"The Isles may have some control over the souls of the dead, but we do not give the verdict sentencing them to their ultimate destiny. Their actions have ordained them to this damning fate," Kalista told him, partly raising her spear as if wanting to throw it at one of the frozen bodies.

"This is Hell."

* * *

Hastings Cathedral, considered the most opulent structure in all of Demacia outside the buildings around the royal palace, was an architectural masterpiece and a breakthrough work for its time, a paragon of the Neoclassical art style which proved popular a century ago.

It would very likely crumble to the ground before the day ended, Irelia feared as she and Jax slipped into a side entrance under the directions of Garen and Xin Zhao, who led the team of secret defense and had officers stationed all around the cathedral to catch any suspicious movements. Jax and Irelia would attend the ceremony under the guise as simple guests at one of the reception tables in the center of the cathedral while Garen and Xin took positions on the west and east balconies overlooking the stage where Prince Jarvan would deliver his speech. Irelia had caught sight of the Half-Dragon's lanky form behind a pillar at the rear of the stage, and Quinn signalled to her discreetly a few tables away. The company had every inch of the perimeter covered, so if anything out of the ordinary were to happen, the team would be the first to find out and react accordingly.

They weren't able to change the location to somewhere outside. Whether the fault lay on Quinn's end, Garen's, or simply a matter of not enough time for a switch of such gravity, their situation became infinitely more delicate now that they were aware of the nature of their enemy. She could tell how on edge the Demacians behaved, as Garen looked more like a statue than a person with the way he never took his eyes off the entrance to the cathedral, paying the utmost attention to the attendees as they began to shuffle in.

Amidst the seriousness of the day, she couldn't rid her mind of one very humorous and oddly fulfilling fact: she might never see another day where Jax actually put on a suit. It surprised her more that morning when she woke up alone in their bed to find the grandmaster already dressed up and ready to go, although Jax had neglected one of the most important parts of the outfit. Technically, he actually did have it with him, except he couldn't wear it correctly.

"I never took the time out of yesterday to figure out how to put on this blasted tie," he complained as the knot which he constructed fell apart for the third time, much to Irelia's amusement.

She rose from the bed and offered to help him, her prowess of tying ties coming from the days when her father had to teach her how to fix her brother's very shoddy technique of wearing his own ties because Zelos never bothered to learn how to wear the garment correctly either. Once she had rectified the issue of the knot, she had smiled and taken a step back to examine him like an artist beholds his masterpiece.

"You look very handsome," she declared.

"And you need to get changed," Jax dully pointed out as Irelia looked down at herself and blushed with embarrassment as she realized she had fallen asleep in her underwear after the proceedings of last night.

She managed to get the last laugh once she had donned her own outfit for the gala. A red sleeveless dress matched the ever present Mantle of Decorum resting above her head which made her look more like an empress than a simple captain of the Ionian guard. She had Lux to thank for her hair, which elegantly spilled out down her shoulders in precise curls, thanks to the convenience of magic superseding the regular need for a hairdresser. Across her waist lay a modest silver belt which gleamed in the sunlight, and the finishing touches came with her three-inch red heels. Admittedly, Irelia never saw the appeal in footwear which made walking more difficult, not valuing the ability to look taller over the discomfort she would feel in her feet. Given the circumstances, where she would have to take action at the first signs of a crisis brewing, she would have to ditch the heels anyways for a more suitable pair of shoes.

Out of the corner of her eye she would catch Jax staring at her every now and then, and the attention pleased Irelia. He had never really shown appreciation for her looks, not that she really put too much concern into her physical features, but she felt flattered all the same. She commanded herself to turn her focus back to the matter at hand, as all her youthful crushing wouldn't mean a thing if they were to fail here.

The Exemplar of Demacia finally appeared on stage, to the voluminous fanfare of the appreciative crowd. Irelia joined in the applause, watching the platform for any tell-tale signs of the ground altering in any way. Beside Jarvan stood a middle-aged woman, perhaps some high ranking Demacian official, who took the microphone to start off the event with some generic introduction about the purpose of the gathering, along with a couple of praises for the strength of the city-state. Just the typical Demacian propaganda, Irelia thought as she continued to observe.

After a few minutes she passed the torch to the real star of the show, the prince, and once again the cheers erupted from the crowd as Jarvan Lightshield, the Fourth of His Name, stood at the podium to address his people.

"Brothers and sisters, today we stand at a pivotable junction in the history of our fair land. Before the revolutionary changes made in our time, we emphasized the strength of our military, the greatest organization of armed forces on Valoran. Not even the Noxian war machine could stand against our shining vanguard, our conclave of indomitable strength. The might of Demacia was more than just a title we have bestowed upon one of our greatest warriors: it stood as an ideal each Demacian, young or old, male or female, rich or poor, should strive to emulate.

"Now, however, the world has turned away from the standard of battles performed by sword and shield, by lance and bow. With the introduction of the League of Legends, war has transformed into a trivial formality by all comparisons, a moderate conflict orchestrated not by the greatest generals we have trained in our academies and tested on our battlefields, but by completely different minds: the summoners who hail from our universities and laboratories. In short, the Institute has removed the high-scale impact of conflict from our world and replaced it with an arena where strategy and individual performance have replaced the prowess we once required of ourselves on nature's true battlefields."

The way Jarvan spoke made Irelia think he disliked the way the Institute dictated the world. It wasn't surprising for a member of one of the most martially capable city-states on the continent to show disdain for a process which largely made redundant the strength of their army, but did that mean that on a deeper level, Demacians would rather solve their conflicts with grandiose battles which could leave hundreds, if not thousands, dead? She didn't need an Ionian background to understand how that perspective was faulty.

"Some of you may scoff at the idea of conducting diplomacy through mock battles in an artificial arena, putting the fate of national issues into the hands of robed strangers controlling warriors from all over the land in some kind of deathmatch. I must admit, even I showed some skepticism upon hearing of the process in which the Institute sought to deal with the world agenda.

"But as you all know, I eventually agreed to become one of the champions of this League of Legends, a distinction I value as one of the highest honors. Is it not a prince's duty to represent his country to the best of his abilities wherever he goes? It may not have the same effect were I to personally lead a legion into battle, but I treat each match on the Summoner's Rift like a true life-or-death battle, and the enemies I encounter hardly act like puppets of the summoners who link with us. These matches are not unlike the trials by combat we have utilized in our judicial system at one time.

"So I come to you today to emphasize the importance of Demacia's influence in the League. Our numbers stand quite formidable, as a fair amount of outstanding individuals act as champions, and many of our government officials have taken on the duties of summoners to ensure maximum effectiveness whenever we conduct these matches to decide the state of our affairs with other city-states. However, we must not slack, must not remain content with the footholds of power we possess at the moment. Noxus seeks to expand her influence as well, with troubling increases of the amount of summoners with allegiance to it popping up in recent weeks. Demacia cannot just stand idly and let this threat go by unchecked. We must strive to increase our involvement in the League, to have our proud citizens take up the tomes and robes of the summoner's code and wage this proud war for the glory of our city-state! The struggle for justice has not disappeared with the end of war as we knew it - it has merely changed form, and we fight not with steel and arrow, but with our magic and wit!

"Now I ask, proud citizens of Demacia, who will stand and fight to aid our cause? Who will help raise the banner to lead Demacia to a new golden age of prosperity?"

_This nationalism is exactly what worries the Institute_, Irelia reflected as shouts rose up from all around her as the crowd stood, fists raised in fervor as they rose to meet their prince's call to arms.

"Who will take this burden and carry this cross to the very end? Who will rise above the rest and make your forefathers proud?"

Chants of "We will!" echoed through the cathedral, and although the patriotism was meant to inspire, Irelia could not help but feel trepidation underneath the surface. A glance at Jax indicated that he shared the same misgivings about the situation.

"Demacia, now and forever!"

"DEMACIA!"

She mistook the rumbling of the earth for the sheer volume which the cathedral's acoustics provided. The enemy had caught them unaware, and not until the ceiling came crashing down upon Jarvan, the altar, the crowd, and the entire floor did Irelia realize how they had ignorantly walked into their own tomb.

* * *

**A/N: **let me know if I should just stop trying with the romantic bits lmao

I was stuck writing the first few paragraphs for a good week, then suddenly inspiration hit me and I wrote the rest of the chapter between last night and now. So yeah, motivation is a funny thing. I kind of wanted the actual battle to take place in this chapter but it would've been quite a lot of words and I figured I could just save it for next Irelia chapter.

Zed's little cameo here features a very Aligherian view of damnation. Having Thresh and Kalista as company on some spooky ship might be sufficient for one's own vision of a circle of hell.


	24. The Deeper Void

Brave he might call himself, but Ezreal never craved the sounds of battle. The only quarry he ever sought after as hungrily as Rengar or Kha'Zix would stalk their prey was an ancient artifact or two in the sands of Shurima, in a time where he only answered to himself and didn't have to worry about fulfilling the obligation to participate in matches hosted to decide the fate of nations every so often. His involvement with any sort of government had only consisted of bureaucrats paying large sums of money for his maps, a bargain which motivated him to continue his lucrative work. But even money played second fiddle to the thrill of discovery, the only thing Ezreal had ever wanted to pursue.

That and women. He couldn't deny the appeal of having female fans all over the continent recognize him from his exploits, just another perk of being a traveling explorer. What could he say? Old habits rarely died.

As much as he would've loved to just daydream about his fair-skinned, fire-kissed Freljordian fancies, the bodacious, buxom beauties of Bilgewater, or even the intelligent, innocent irises of Ionians, he found himself unable to tear his eyes away from the battle about to ensue. His heart throbbed madly within his chest, even though he wasn't even participating. He felt like he had to stand for himself rather than let people fight his battles, but though he attempted to stand, his legs wouldn't cooperate and he had to resign himself to spectating. Still, Ezreal couldn't shake the feelings of guilt which hung over him as he watched the two predators work in sync, fending off the black scorpion trying to figure out which of the two to deal with first. Watching two sworn enemies cooperate for any reason felt like committing some petty crime, like the one time he snuck into one of the Piltover movie theaters because he didn't have enough money to pay for a ticket. He counted himself fortunate to witness the spectacle, just as he did back then when Jayce promised not to tip off Caitlyn or Vi about the explorer's misdemeanors.

For two arch-nemeses, their fighting styles interlocked in a surprisingly fitting manner, both inspired by the competitive and highly savage environment of the jungle. Rengar and Kha'Zix synchronized their assaults effortlessly, the leonid advancing to strike an opening which the mantis had left open by forcing the Droughtgiver to defend another area and extracting a hiss of pain from the creature. It once again materialized its shields to cover the areas its claws could not reach manually, and charged at the pair again. Their teamwork proved an effective defense as well, each of the hunters able to watch the other's back and block any feints the scorpion wanted to pull on them. It tried to bypass the differential in numbers by releasing its acid in an arc, but spreading out its shot meant that either the liquid could not coalesce quick enough through the air before the majority of it dissolved short of reaching the junglers or it simply did not travel far or fast enough, allowing them to easily sidestep the zone of corrosion.

Rengar took the initiative for their next attack, strafing around the side of the Droughtgiver and demanding it to shift its attention to its right flank, where the scorpion prepared a claw in defense. The Pridestalker attempted to work around the interfering appendage, growling in frustration, but from his vantage point Ezreal could tell what the duo truly intended to do. Kha'Zix had lunged low, slashing at an angle towards the scorpion's unprotected underbelly, and the Droughtgiver could not turn to block the strike in time. A wretched scream left the creature's lungs and it knocked them back once more with a swipe of its tail, but the pair of predators walked away from each confrontation much healthier than their adversary and if it continued to boil down to a war of attrition Ezreal knew the champions would come out ahead. Recalling the incident back in Shurima, the explorer speculated upon whether it still had any hidden tricks to pull from its arsenal. If the scorpion called forth the storm of black scarabs again, Rengar and Kha'Zix could simply stand in the river and watch the insects harmlessly sweep past them along with the current.

_It would never let them win this easily. I'm sure the Institute's thought up all sorts of surprises to implant in its abominations._

While the Droughtgiver learned to work around the duo's deceptive tactics, it still could not block all of their advances while still retaliating with its own attacks. Ezreal wondered why it simply did not concentrate all of its efforts into protecting its body from taking any more injuries, or even retreat. He watched Kha'Zix land another cut on the scorpion's vulnerable parts, this time between one of the plates of armor near its tail, while Rengar dodged the counterattack by easily leaping over an extended claw. The battle seemed the most one-sided out of all the champions' confrontations with the Institute's creatures thus far. Did Rengar and Kha'Zix really outclass everyone else up to this point that they could take down a titanic beast by themselves? He thought of the Void Walker, undoubtedly one of the strongest mages in the current day, who could even channel the energies of the Void into power for his own use. Rather than letting the malefic temptations consume him, he reflected the Void's aura in such a way he could use its entropy to teleport himself short distances. If Kassadin himself could not handle the monsters, Ezreal couldn't imagine one of them falling simply to the brute force of two alpha predators, no matter how high atop the food chain they stood. He would even consider Jax and Irelia equally proficient in combat to the two hunters even though they relied on weapons.

As he continued to observe the flurry of movements, the way they utilized the thickets at the edge of the river to shroud their movements, Ezreal came to a realization. All the great warriors of the city-states represented in the League of Legends served in their militaries and distinguished themselves on the battlefield. No one would deny Garen or Tryndamere's military exploits, but once the bloodshed had finished, the heroes of war would hang up their armor, sheath their swords, and return to private life. Irelia did not spend each waking hour locked in physical combat with her enemies; she involved herself in the politics and welfare of Ionia with the same commitment and intensity she displayed on the Fields of Justice. As much as he despised Noxians, Ezreal wouldn't believe a man like Darius had a simple one-track mind of fighting until his last breath. If he resembled Draven in the slightest, then even the Hand of Noxus would appreciate some entertainment.

Rengar and Kha'Zix simply lived and breathed battle, which took on a completely different form when it came to the domain of the jungle. Anyone could strategize beforehand if given a description of the battleground. Even the matches which took place on the Summoner's Rift provided them a visual of the arena, a magic hologram which would appear in front of them whenever they willed for it to show up. Take your first step into the foliage, however, and if you didn't possess a keen sense of direction and present-mindedness, the shadows would certainly devour you in an instant. Ezreal could hardly imagine going through those experiences and coming out alive each and every day. Contrary to popular belief, he did need a map.

And yet, Rengar and Kha'Zix proved themselves five-star hunters by dealing with life-or-death situations around the clock. Each minute weighed heavily in the unknown depths of the jungle, where a hunter's final moments could lie on the other side of that tree trunk, or over the crest of that boulder. They knew combat not because they had chosen it for their careers: it had become their lives. With the natural flow of the food chain, it became only a matter of time before a young cub thrown into the pandemonium, one with the strength and cunning to survive, eventually became the hunter rather than the hunted. Taking a life became second nature to a hunter once he realized he needed to do so in order to survive, once he had disassociated the act with self-defense and simply called it "getting lunch."

The skies rapidly began darkening, and although Ezreal might have given it a half hour at best before sunset, it did not become so dark naturally. He only caught a glimpse of the Droughtgiver at the epicenter of the darkness before he lost his vision completely and found himself in complete blackness. He motioned for a surface behind him, attempting to find one of the large rocks flanking the river and hoping to cover his back in such a period of vulnerability. The hard surface made contact with his hand, and he leaned back in relief as he did what he could in his blindness: open his ears and listen.

A sharp cry of pain. Ezreal recognized it as Rengar's, followed by some minor scuffling and a couple of indistinguishable grunts. "Back!" Kha'Zix snarled, but whether he directed the command towards Rengar or the Droughtgiver, Ezreal could not tell. He made out a couple of dull thumps. Then came the slow, agonizing silence. Despite his relatively safe position next to the rock, Ezreal felt the paranoia creep in. Where had the scorpion gone, and why had they stopped fighting? He reasoned that if Rengar and Kha'Zix had the upper hand, it wouldn't have remained so dark. Yet nothing came into vision, and he remained floundering in ignorance.

It amazed him how the fear set in because of what he couldn't see. He understood that he displayed negative emotions because of anomalies he observed, like if a surveyor had misspelled the name of a town on a map, or if he came across a window with a portion of its glass punched out and lying in shards on the ground. He would show annoyance or concern, depending on the gravity of the anomaly, and all negative feelings fell somewhere on that scale. Yet fear did not play to those standards, materializing when he _didn't _sense things. The uncertainty which drew forth from his lack of information seeped into his mind, disconcerting his thoughts first, then his joints. Eventually, Ezreal found himself paralyzed by his own fright.

_Something bad has happened to them. They lost, and now it's after me. It's probably right in front of me, just waiting to strike, but I don't know, I couldn't know-_

With a burst of hidden strength, he drew forth his gauntlet and shot forth the Trueshot Barrage blindly into the darkness. The bow-shaped wave of energy whizzed from his hand, piercing through the air and giving him vision for a second. In the instant, he spotted his target, reeling from the surprise attack. He heard a large mass crash onto the ground, and as it landed, he found his sight returned to him. The trees, the rocks, the white waters of the river, and the reddish-orange tint of the setting sun all came back to him.

He honed in on Rumble's mech first, the biggest object in the foreground. The mechanic had managed to return his invention to normal temperature, the dark interlude providing the respite Rumble needed to get the systems under control. Ezreal didn't think it too far a stretch to assume Rumble could probably operate it without necessarily needing to see with the experience he had with the mech

Rengar looked less healthy than before, clutching his chest to cover a wound. However, the blood staining his fur spread past the area where his hand lay, and Ezreal watched it drip off the leonid's fingers into a dark puddle on the ground. The blood looked both thicker and darker than usual, making Ezreal wonder if the scorpion had poisoned him. Several feet away from him Kha'Zix leaned over wearily, sporting no injuries as far as Ezreal could tell, although he had to admit he knew basically nothing about the Voidreaver's alien anatomy. Ezreal couldn't make out any sign of Teemo, although he knew the scout had most likely camouflaged himself amongst the reeds during the scuffle.

In the center of the scene lay the enemy in question, the Droughtgiver knocked over by Ezreal's blast of energy. Whether it had taken the most damage from Ezreal or the blind struggle it had with the two hunters while under the cover of darkness, Ezreal couldn't tell, but he thought the scorpion had finally had enough. Its pincers flailed helplessly as it tried to right itself, and its tail spasmed wildly every few seconds as if it had a mind of its own and now attempted to free itself from its dying host.

Ezreal slowly pulled himself up, only able to rise to one knee while supporting himself with both his hands. He struggled to keep his gaze upright, forcing his eyes open through the pain exerted onto his legs, and watched in anticipation as the scorpion spoke in a raspy voice.

"Heh… heh," it croaked, coughing up a black substance as it spoke. "I'm a goner now, aren't I? But… it'd be a shame to go down alone, wouldn't it? Hah… ha…" it wheezed before its head tilted downwards and uttered no more.

Ezreal merely continued to stare at the lifeless body lying in front of him before Kha'Zix spoke up. "Wretched beast. It tried to rip off my wing… if I could devour it this moment, I would." He fell to the ground, claws stopping his face from fully colliding with the earth.

Rengar looked in no better condition, although he had already sought to treat his wound by wrapping a thick reed around his waist. "Poison from the scorpion… I would have expected no less of a worthy prey. Yet it was no match for a true hunter." He regarded Ezreal with a slight nod. "An impressive shot, explorer."

He forced a smile through the pain. "Eh, it was nothing."

"But wait," Rumble cut in, "so what did it mean by not going down alone?"

"He's right," Teemo materialized in the midst of them, warily eying the already hardening exoskeleton. "I have a feeling it hasn't finished with its little bag of tricks."

"Then we leave now," Kha'Zix growled. "The Prophet has much to report, and nothing good can come from lingering around one of the Institute's hounds."

Loud footsteps from the other side of the river from which they had come interrupted their conversation as three females appeared from the thicket, all harboring some kind of worried expression. Nidalee looked in a much better state, although her face indicated they had still come across some sort of trouble. "Uh… hey ladies?" Ezreal greeted them confusedly. "Why did you come back? It was dangerous to follow us."

"We have to get out of here as soon as possible," Janna informed them. "The jungle isn't safe."

Rengar seemed to understand, walking back across the river. Ezreal noticed a limp in his step. "More enemies?"

The wind mage shook her head, a hand urgently imploring the others to follow. "No, it's the jungle itself! It's been rigged with ex-"

A large explosion went off in the distance. Ezreal at first though the sound came from a gun, until another one followed, a bit closer than the first one. By the third boom, he had already forced himself to stand, hobbling as fast as he could manage towards the river as more and more sounds began to follow, sometimes multiple going off at the same time and each sound coming closer than the first. He had just made it to the other side when the impact from the last explosion knocked him off his feet and he went flying face-first into a tree.

_Explosives._ Ezreal had just enough time to complete the sentence Janna had tried to finish warning them about before his head collided with the trunk and he went out cold.

* * *

The undulations of the ship ceased. Zed wondered if he should be thankful for arriving at their destination or not.

Hardly desiring to continue associating with the ghostly crew which manned the ship or Thresh - especially Thresh - Zed had elected to retire to the bunks below decks, attempting to find quiet in one of the vacant rooms. After all, spirits didn't need to sleep and therefore didn't need to use the beds, so unless other living humans had found themselves on the galleon, he would have the quarters all to himself.

He sat up in the bunk as the door creaked open and the very spirit he wished to avoid entered the room with a wicked grin on his face. "Rise and shine, ninja. We're stepping ashore on this little detour for… a breath of fresh air, I would call it. Won't you come along?"

Realizing the possible implications of refusing, Zed begrudgingly arose from the bed and exited the room without saying a word to the warden. Thresh merely cackled before slamming the door closed and following Zed as the pair made their way up to the main deck, where an assembly of spectres had gathered to listen to the Spear of Vengeance speaking from the bow of the ship. Dark grey clouds dropping specks of snow filled the sky, and Zed wondered whether it was still night or if the weather always looked dreary in the far north.

"...with utmost speed, and bring the traitors to their knees!"

The servants of the Shadow Isles did not give applause, nor did they rally to their leader. They simply strode out from the ship and onto the plain of snow which awaited them. Wondering what sort of harbor could bring them in on such a night, Zed surveyed his surroundings and discovered that they had docked on the side of a cliff, the ship suspended in midair as the stairs ran down to the cliff's edge. There was a slight gap between the end of the stairs and the ledge, which Zed fortunately noticed as he hopped off the last stair and onto the mainland of the Freljord. No noise besides the howl of the wind came from the landing party as they debarked. Zed only heard the sounds of the shackles which bound a group of souls together, all smaller than the spectral warriors surrounding them. Thresh walked in front of them, looking into each of their faces with that same sadistic grin he loved to wear, before hooking the soul in front of the pack and floating along with the rest of the squadron, the unfortunate prisoners attempting to follow as best as they could with the short chains linking them from ankle to ankle. Some of them would trip into the snow, but Thresh refused to stop or slow down for anyone. Zed watched the group drag one straggler through the snow for a short distance before he turned his head away. At least he retained the choice to stop looking.

He began to survey the icy land around him, looking for any familiar landmarks to indicate where exactly in the north they had arrived, but the spearwoman found him first. Kalista stood in front of him, fingers tightly gripping her spear, and waved her free hand through the air, revealing a wispy green trail between Zed and her. He recognized it as the bond between her and her Oathsworn. Typically the specter would bond with her support as the pair made their way to the bottom lane, but Zed never stopped to think how the link would work outside the Fields of Justice. He didn't assume he had much power in the relationship.

"Our bond is not a chain which restricts and pulls back, like the Chain Warden's," Kalista said. "Only I can break it, and it shall not end until you fulfill your duty. And unlike the warden's, it is not restricted by the limits of space. This does not give you the right to abandon me, and although you may try, I will find you and hunt you down. Thus you must remain with me, but a mortal like you should not worry, for I will keep you safe."

Zed thought she had softened her tone for a second. "I have heard the cry of the betrayed souls in the frozen tundra. We shall discover the root of the treachery, and pull it out until nothing is left. You are no stranger to killing, Oathsworn, so you will have no trouble fighting alongside me and ending their lives."

Kalista spoke without requiring a response from her audience. While he did not mind keeping his silence, Zed couldn't help wonder whether her goal really required such extreme measures such as binding souls to her. Perhaps Kalista needed the company more for her own sake than anything else.

Zed dared to ask a question. "And who amongst the peoples of the Freljord require the interference of the Shadow Isles?" He considered the current political situation of the icy state: the newly crowned King and Queen of the Freljord had worked hard at establishing ties with other nations now that the Queen had finally realized her dream of making the Freljord a nation itself. In the early years of a fledgling nation, nobles and politicians would vie for supremacy, creating a fitting landscape for betrayal and corruption to run underfoot. Zed doubted the barbarians under Tryndamere's control would have turned upon the queen and her people, but perhaps some lighter deception had brewed if any power-hungry noble set their sights on the throne amidst the chaos.

If any person had ambition for the throne at this time, Zed could think of no other person than the Winter's Wrath. Sejuani had never accepted the white-skinned, fair-haired Ashe as a proper queen, and indeed, Ashe possessed an innocent complexion more like a Demacian noblewoman than a battle-hardened Freljordian warrior, who would have skin roughened by the cold and a spirit tempered by battle. He could not label her as a betrayer, however, as Sejuani had never valued the trust of the Avarosan as anything to value. The head of the Winter's Claw won the support of her tribe by sheer strength and willpower alone, not by speaking sweet words and negotiating alliances.

Lastly came the third prominent woman of Freljord, Lissandra. The Freljordians knew little about the enigmatic ice sorceress, and Zed could recall even less. He seemed to remember her name mentioned alongside Ashe's, but people would always speak of her with uncertainty. No one could divine her true nature. Zed mentioned each of the women's names to Kalista, and she answered ambiguously, although Zed did catch the emerald, pupil-less spheres flare up at the mention of Lissandra.

"It is not a matter for you to understand. It is one for you to rectify," she said with finality.

The march continued as the spirits walked parallel to the mountain range on their left which extended inland before turning farther left. Without any sun to guide their path, Zed could not tell in which direction they traveled, although he knew from studying maps how the mountain ranges of the Freljord ran west to east, so they had to move in one of the two directions. Both would take them into the heart of the frosted frontier, he realized.

Thresh's prisoners had began to cry out in pain, agonized shrieks which the warden did not bother covering up, instead pulling them onwards still, an act which merely augmented their suffering. Zed normally tuned out unwanted distractions by looking up at the sky and tracing the constellations if at night, but the thick clouds blotting them out proved impossible, so he stared the opposite way instead. Each step he made formed footprints which fell deep into the snow, and he flinched in surprise upon noticing how he made the only footprints among the entire company. He should have expected it, with the incorporeal forms of the spectres, but the fact still unnerved him, reminding him of his mortality. One day he would pass from the world, ending up as one of the shades, doomed to spend an eternity as a vassal to the ghostly spear-wielder.

They had made it out of the mountainous terrain and walked onto a wide path flanked by trees on either side, leafless mahogany and willow which had only began to regain their verdant clothing with the promise of spring creeping in. Zed didn't see much of a difference between the seasons as far north as the Freljord, shivering despite his attempts to hide his emotions from Kalista. Though he did not fear the spearwoman and she most likely did not care about whether he could handle the cold or not, Zed naturally wished to repress weakness, a knee-jerk reaction if he ever had one.

Eventually the sentinels returned to her, and Kalista raised her hand again as they disappeared with a pair of shrieks. "Our target lies just around the bend," she pointed at a group of pine trees thickly clumped up perhaps a mile down the path. Kalista resumed walking with a quickened pace, and the increased frequency of chains rattling behind him told Zed that even the warden's prisoners making up the rear felt the urgency in her step. Once they had reached their destination, Zed saw a large group of makeshift huts, recognizing the makings of a temporary camp an army would set up. He spotted a tattered flag wildly waving in the wind, the picture faded from exposure to the elements but clear enough to distinguish.

A hawk adorned the banners of the united Freljord, the peaceful yet vigilant animal symbolizing the characteristics of the Avarosan people. But another sigil existed in the north, a banner which only made itself known in times of war, the sigil which Zed now found himself looking at, a white bear's claw colored red with blood.

The Winter's Claw.

* * *

Two splitting headaches in one day. If Ezreal kept up his pace, it wouldn't surprise him for a full-grown woman to emerge out of his cranium, although he certainly would question the laws of physics broken by such an event.

He felt a warm sensation pressing against the back of his neck, and opened one eye to find himself gazing along the hypnotizing length of Janna's captivating and long - very long, Ezreal made sure to emphasize - legs. More than comfortable and content to feign unconsciousness, Ezreal considered remaining in his position, but after remembering what had previously knocked him out, the recent events jolted him out of his dreamland. He pushed himself up slowly, startling his caretaker.

"Ezreal! Are you alright?" the Storm's Fury asked worriedly. In his periphery he could tell they hadn't left the forest, the branches of the trees adorned by the tapestry of night weaving around the empty spaces in the foliage. Tristana sheepishly grinning at him, but Ezreal had focused his attention towards a face he hadn't seen in quite some time: a pair of metallic yellow eyes hidden behind a mask which Ezreal recognized as part robotic and part hextech. Where the rest of the man's face should have gone, an array of breathing tubes projected out of a device covering his mouth. The tubes ran down the length of his neck, some making their way towards his chest where they would connect to his lungs, others proceeded around his back and injected themselves in sockets behind where the man's ears should have been. It gave the man a look of one who had fused with an octopus, although no one would ever share the metaphor to his face. The Void Walker gazed down at the explorer, his expression unreadable.

"Kassadin," Ezreal managed.

"You should count yourselves fortunate I happened to be in the area," the former Shuriman told him. "Although the force of the explosions was mostly pure kinetic energy, the most destructive part of the mines which that creature had planted in the jungle came from dark matter one would only find in the Void." The mage held out a small amethyst which glowed a purple light. "I was able to contain the magical energy within the Void Stone."

"He saved all of our lives," Janna interceded. "The shock of the explosion never reached the three of us because we were already on the other side of the river, so we weren't knocked off our feet like the rest of you. We thought the destruction had ended until the purple mass began rising out of the dust."

"So we're all safe?" asked Rumble, who Ezreal had found sitting at the foot of a very damaged mech. The yordle's pride and glory hadn't made it out of the mess without devastating consequences, and by its poor condition, Ezreal didn't think anyone would operate it any time soon.

The women shared a nervous glance before Tristana hesitantly spoke up. "We managed to find you two and Teemo, who's still out, but he'll be fine."

"But we could not trace the whereabouts of the Pridestalker and Voidreaver," Nidalee finished solemnly.

If any of them would have fallen along with the Droughtgiver, Ezreal believed Rengar or Kha'Zix the least likely out of their group. However, fate never did pick favorites, contrary to what the gambler believed, and Ezreal could only stare at his saviors with a distant focus in his eyes. Even though he never really cared much for either of them, after dozens of fictitious battles where he would see one of them fall to their knees covered in the blood of their victims, he would always see them again and grew accustomed to their dependability. He found it difficult to grasp the reality that they wouldn't come back.

"I offer my deepest condolences for the loss of the Pridestalker," Kassadin said, "for he was indeed a fearsome opponent. I cannot say the same about Kha'Zix… after all, he was a monster created by the Void, and it leaves one less of those creatures wandering about Runeterra." Though the group couldn't argue with his logic, it still didn't ease the uncomfortable feeling of knowing the Voidreaver had left them.

"While we are on the matter of the Void, I believe it imperative we head for Icathia at once tomorrow. We must discover whether these creatures of the Institute have any connection to that multiverse."

Ezreal would hardly peg Kha'Zix for a saint, but after seeing him fight with them on the sands with as much ferocity as he would have tracking down stray marksmen in the avenues of Summoner's Rift, and watching him come to save his life more than once, he could not see the mantis as a monster, a part of a race which would eventually come to destroy the world. The real monsters who would gladly threaten their existence lay with the Institute.

Sleep came very late for him that night.

The following morning, the group had taken the Bandle City automobile to the northern border, where the fabled land of Icathia lay somewhere within the abandoned wastelands. They had attached Rumble's battered mech to the roof of the car, and although it would draw some questioning glances, its weight didn't affect the car's actual motor functions. The blue yordle didn't seem too upset about the wreckage after sleeping on the matter; he had quickly returned to his hopeless adventures of trying to impress Tristana, who had her hands full driving the vehicle and hardly responded to any of his poor pick-up attempts.

As they drove farther and farther away from the neighborhoods of Bandle, Ezreal watched the colors leave the fields which passed them. Soon the blooming flowers and leaves of spring faded away and turned into the nondescript expanse of desert, a monotonous brown wasteland which might've found a place on a surrealistic canvas. Only the occasional decayed tree or rock formation broke the endless pattern of emptiness. Even the clouds seemed unsure about whether they wanted to stay in such a place, the sky repeatedly flickering between states of clarity to partially filling space with the white and grey ovals. Ezreal didn't think he could find anything worth examining in the desolation, no matter how much Piltover paid him.

Eventually, Kassadin had told them to stop, although whatever he saw or sensed in the environment Ezreal couldn't understand. He floated off towards a couple of rocks a stone's throw away from the dirt path, wedging himself between them and drawing a small object from a crevasse within one of them. Another Void Stone, Ezreal guessed, as the Void Walker returned and suspended the sphere in mid-air for the whole group to see.

"It's just as I feared," he announced morosely. "I had managed to capture a pint of the scorpion's poison in a vial before the forest erupted around us, and took its contents to this Void Stone to analyze it. The readings match the kinetic footprints which I gathered from samples of Kog'Maw's Void Ooze."

Ezreal knew enough of science to understand what Kassadin implied. "So you're saying that the creatures of the Institute also come from the Void?"

"I'm afraid that is true," Kassadin answered.

"Don't go pinning the blame on me, Void Walker."

The group turned around to see a man dressed in the purple robes which Ezreal recognized as the garb taken by the Seers of Shurima, a profession which dated back to the times before the empire's fall. A scarf trailed in the wind behind him, revealing a dagger strapped to his belt - both objects typical of desert travelers. This man, however, had an aura of purple energy surrounding him, signifying his relationship to the Void. What disturbed them most about the man's sudden appearance, however, was his companion: a giant magenta eyeball, encircled by a faded yellow crest. Various tentacles emerged from the crest's sides, wading through the air to provide for its locomotion.

"Data concerning the typical groups for flesh-lined creatures shows incongruency," came its calculated voice, which always reminded Ezreal of the sewers back in the city.

"Malzahar," Kassadin growled. "The Eye of the Void. You would dare show your faces in my presence?"

"Come now, Kassadin, I wouldn't have arrived if there wasn't some business I had to attend to. I'm sure you're here for the same," the prophet said. "I've come to the same conclusion as you have: these creatures do have Voidal origins. You are aware, of course, of the different multiverses within the realm, right?"

"I never wished to explore any other section," Kassadin responded stiffly. "Your part had showed me more than I could ever have wanted!"

"And that is the difference between you and me," Malzahar claimed. "I longed to explore the other worlds the Void had opened to me. I thought other creatures of power surely lurked in every nook and cranny of its walls. But what I saw in the other portals were a race even I shuddered to behold. Black-winged leviathans with a hundred heads, flaming manticores whose touch could melt through even the strongest diamond, hideous chimeras, amalgamations of creatures I couldn't even recognize. Those worlds are where the true enemy lies, and my own analysis has shown that the creatures summoned by the Institute have come from there!"

Vel'Koz nodded - a very unusual gesture to make, Ezreal mused. "Energy levels observed within darker circles of the Void exceed previously set parameters. Subjects could not be brought in for experimental testing. Conclusion: frightening."

"If my stories haven't convinced you yet, do you really think I would have taken all the trouble to send the Voidreaver to assist the champions in their struggle and watch him fall off the face of Runeterra if I was really behind this?" His voice had nearly raised to a shout, and Ezreal almost felt concern for him. The prophet had taken his underling's loss hard.

Malzahar's story quieted Kassadin, who looked thoughtfully at the Void Stone once again. "So, if these creatures from the deeper Void have found their way into the hands of the Institute, what do they want from this world?"

"Who can say? Somehow, the summoners have managed to put them on some kind of leash, but even then I cannot be sure they will remain under their control for long. The prideful fools at the Institute don't realize the power they have wrapped around their fingers is just waiting for the right moment to bite the hands that feed them," Malzahar intoned ominously.

The arrival of a raven upon Kassadin's shoulder interrupted the conversation. Upon closer inspection, Ezreal realized it was a mechanical imitation of a bird, and it dropped a small silicon chip in the Void Walker's palm. With a very convincing caw, it flew off as all eyes (and eye) turned on Kassadin.

"News from Shauna," he told them as he inserted the chip into a small hollow in the side of his arm. "Coming on wings of night, she might say. How fitting of her to deliver it on a raven, although she likely couldn't have sent a real bird."

"What does the message say?" Ezreal asked.

Kassadin turned towards him with piercing yellow slits. "The Institute has fallen."

* * *

**A/N: **I'm back and I've brought plot. Lots of it. I had to look up the Freljord lore again because I'm not exactly sure how much a generic champion would know about Lissandra because lots of her lore seems to imply that no one knows she's going to betray Ashe (or I guess she would know, but the news of their conflict has not yet made it out to the Institute).

I only regret that I didn't put Rengar in earlier. Would've been a lot of fun to write, but alas, the good die young. Or do they?

Lastly, since I'm heading towards the final chapters I'm going to start rewriting the beginning of the story and probably add some more background to the conflict, or at least the Institute. When the story began it was just "hey let's write about Jax and Irelia" and of course it got a lot deeper than that, so I believe an adequate info dump at the beginning might be needed. It shouldn't change the experience of readers who read through the original, but I just went over my opening chapters and damn they need work.

So yeah. Quick updates from now on since I've already hyped myself for the conclusion of Trinity. Until next chapter!


	25. The Dissolution of Nations

Her father once told her that when she had come out of her mother's womb, she cried throughout the whole night. Ionians hardly gave newborn children a second glance when they cried soon after birth, for they understood that children did so out of reflexes. But Master Lito and his wife looked to the midwife with concern when their child's bawling did not cease.

"The evil spirits flock to her," the woman had told her parents, tsking to herself while grabbing another cloth to wrap Irelia in. "Be sure to lock the windows, or her crying might summon the _aobozu."_

Her father had grown up in the city, where the people never gave into the superstition which spread amongst the countryside, but her mother came from a rice farmer's family, the middle daughter of three, and had spent the first twenty years of her life assisting her own father in the fields, tending to the crops and watering the jasmine shrubs. They treated the sweet-scenting flower as their most prized possession, selling them to traders coming to and from the capital in order to make a living for themselves. But a lot more flowed around the country. Ghost stories always made their way from house to house in the countryside, and a young Irelia had often overheard Zelos share the best ones he had learned with the other boys from the village. One afternoon she heard him talk about the legend of the _aobozu, _an evil monk which allegedly snatched infants and newborns from their cribs. She didn't sleep much that night, her imagination turning the slightest sounds from the wind into footsteps outside her window which frightened her, and she complained to her brother the following morning.

"Everyone knows that's not real, Irie," Zelos had lightly chided her. "Do you always have to be a crybaby about everything?"

From that moment on, she did everything in her power to avoid crying. People treated those who cried funnily, either awkwardly talking in circles in their efforts to not offend them or simply making fun of them as Zelos had done. It reminded Irelia of the way people acted around the sick, the ones who had come up with a really bad illness and didn't survive a month after catching it. Those people simply lay in bed and could only look out their window and watch the world go by. She didn't want those close to her to treat her like one of the sick people. So she resolved to never let the tears come out of her eyes, doing all she could to keep them in. She didn't want to cry. She didn't want to just watch the world go by. She didn't want to be weak.

Trapped between a stone pillar and the remains of a fallen one, Irelia repeated the childhood promise she made to herself as she struggled to free her leg from the weight pinning her down. Her blades had come to her assistance, but the steel could do little to move the stone off her body. Frustrated and reeling in pain from the pressure her leg had to endure, she turned her head to look at what remained of the cathedral. The pillars obscured most of her vision, and the only source of information available to her at the moment came from a small gap between them where she could barely make out the shapes of people running in all sorts of directions. Above the screaming coming from the Demacian nobility, who came in unprepared for an attack, she heard the clear voice of Garen Crownguard ordering the city guard, calling for help in all sorts of places. The sound of steel clanged against another material which Irelia couldn't figure out, but a hideous roar echoing throughout the cathedral gave her a pretty good guess of what the guards had to deal with.

A trio of soldiers ran up to the small crevasse. The pillars blocked their faces, but Irelia could make out the crest of Demacia, an eagle flying upon a blue and white background, residing on their breastplates. One of them lowered his head into the rubble, his eyes widening when he found her trapped figure.

"M-milady! Are you hurt?" He gave a command to his two comrades, who moved around to the other side of the fallen pillar. "Just hold on. We'll move the pillar out of the way for you." Too exhausted to protest the title of 'lady' given to her, Irelia mustered up a hoarse "Thank you" before a fit of coughing overpowered her voice. She noticed the pressure on her leg begin to weaken as the soldiers succeeded in extricating her from the stone pillar, giving her enough free space to crawl out of her makeshift prison. Irelia tried to stand, but the pain in her leg forbade her from any significant movements. Seeing her struggle against her weight, the Demacian soldier ran to her side and caught her before she stumbled.

"Allow me to carry you out of harm's way," he offered, wrapping her arm around his shoulder and raising her by the legs before running out of the ruins of the cathedral and onto the streets outside. Irelia noticed a sizable crowd gathering, the reinforcements of the military beginning to pile in while the attendants of the ceremony made as much distance between them and the cathedral. Still others looked on, some in terror, some in wonder. She grimaced through the pain firing up her leg as the soldier set her down in the shade of an arbor tree and rejoined the battle after a short warning for Irelia to wait there for his return, a command she had to scoff at. She belonged with the soldiers going in, not the civilians running out.

_Waiting on the sidelines never suited you. Has something happened?, _a familiar voice rang through her head. Irelia looked up to see the unmistakable blue pigtails of Sona dangle above her, the maven looking concerned and holding her etwahl determinedly.

"You came to the gala, too? I don't remember you amongst the attendees," Irelia said.

_I hadn't planned to, so I was just accompanying Lestara on a drive around town. I'm glad we passed by the cathedral though, or else we wouldn't have been able to help. Is it another attack by the Institute?_

Irelia nodded. "You might remember how Jax told us the Institute was going after the prince next. The building collapsed on us in the middle of Jarvan giving a speech and I heard a monster attacking the guards in there. Garen and Xin had set up a line of protection in case an attack happened, but we didn't expect the entire cathedral to go down. And I need to be there too, fighting with Jax and Garen and all the others, but I can't even stand." She gazed at the wreckage of the cathedral with chagrin, the sounds of battle echoing from within.

The mute sat down upon the grass so Irelia could meet her gaze on the same level. She began to pluck the strings of the etwahl, slowly playing a couple of notes at first, but soon progressing into chords and a calming melody backed by enchanting arpeggios which eventually scaled up into a powerful vibrato. When the performance ended, Irelia had lost herself in the little symphony that she at first didn't realize her leg had healed. She experimentally moved it up and down the hinge of her knee, finding nothing to impair her movement.

Irelia smiled wistfully at her companion. "Thank you for that, Sona. Your songs really do change people. I hope I can put your healing skills to good use." Empowered by her regained strength, Irelia walked purposefully back towards the cathedral, her blades upright and attentive by her side, itching to spill blood. A light tap on her shoulder caused her to turn around for a second.

_You think I'm just going to let you go back there on your own? I won't allow you to get hurt again on my watch, _came the words of a resolute Sona.

Irelia lightly dropped her shoulders, knowing she could not sway the musician's mind. "Let's take them on together, then."

The state of affairs hadn't improved since last Irelia had seen the place. Gingerly stepping around a large pile of shattered limestone and granite, Irelia scoped out the scene as best she could. Two winged creatures covered in black and gray - the latter the result of the dust from the broken stone walls - took on a group of ten Demacian guards each, and more fighting seemed to occur near the front of the cathedral, where the altar previously stood. The partitions leading to the private rooms had collapsed, making the area look much larger than it seemed when they sat within the structure while still intact. Irelia knew the two winged creatures weren't the same monster which had chased Jax, Quinn, and her last night, so she went off to the back of the cathedral to look for it. She ran past one of the only fragments of the wall still standing, Sona moving right behind her, and gasped.

For the first time, she could finally behold the monster from the underground tunnels in all of its horror, a gargantuan beast perhaps twenty-five feet in length and perhaps half as tall. Like all the other monsters of the Institute, it sported a sleek black hide and endless ridges of scales along its back. Its claws could probably fit a full-size Cho'Gath in their clutches, and its maw proved even more terrifying to look at in broad daylight. She noticed a red flame dragon locked in combat with it as the crown prince attempted to back Shyvana up with his lance. Xin Zhao leapt away from its blows on the other side of the beast, constantly repositioning himself in order to not get caught in its claws. Irelia didn't notice him at first, but as the beast shifted positions to defend itself against Shyvana's flames, she could make out Jax attempting a flank from behind, stepping out of the way from the monster's tail recklessly swinging back and forth, further smashing cracks into the already damaged partitions.

She meandered around a fallen confession booth, maintaining enough grace not to trip over a stray kneeler as she made her way over to Jax, whose furious strikes at the beast's tail had about as much impact as a wave at low tide would have if it collided with Mount Targon. He turned his attention towards her when he saw her coming, backing away so they could quickly confer without the creature turning on them. "What's the situation?" Irelia asked.

"This chap over here was kind enough to introduce himself as the Driftshaker," Jax told her, ducking over a horizontal swipe of the tail. "The Demacians are concerned about protecting their prince, of course, but Jarvan swore he'd fight with his men till the very end, so here we are. The Half-Dragon's doing her best, and Xin and I've landed a few cuts here and there, but if fire doesn't seem to harm this thing, our spears and lampposts won't be doing much either."

"Maybe it'd like to have a taste of Ionian steel, then?" Her blades raised themselves into position, pointing at the Driftshaker's flank.

"Let's go for it." Jax leapt at the monster's side, attracting its attention as it swung a sharp claw at him. He predicted the attack, quickly changing directions and sidestepping the swipe. It cut off a piece off his cloak, and Jax stopped to examine the tear for a second before quickly backing out in anticipation for the second strike. Irelia took the time Jax made with his distraction to try her luck at wounding the gigantic monster. It looked like it might have some unarmored parts between where the tail and legs met its body, so she attempted to strike there. Despite assaults from all sides, however, it still managed to counter Irelia's every move, blocking her spirit blades with well-placed whips of its tail. The strikes just passed to the side of her injured leg, and she exhaled in relief each time it missed.

Seeing her difficulty, Jax opted to help her, attacking closer to the tail this time. He made sure to command the appendage's attention, moving in from strange angles far from Irelia so the tail could not double back and block her strikes at the same time. The tactic seemed to work, as they heard the creature groan loudly and the tail spasm as Irelia's blades found their mark, an uncovered patch of skin on the inside of its upper hind leg. Their small success came at the wrath of the Driftshaker turning its attention to the champions facing it up front. Its strong jaws had wrestled Jarvan's lance from his grip, sending it flying towards a caved-in door, and the teeth nearly bit off the prince's head, settling for drawing blood from cutting his ear instead. The exemplar retreated, and Shyvana had directed her rage towards the Driftshaker, a jet of flames spewing from her belly as she resumed the fight with newly born fury. The creature moved its claws forward to defend, but Xin had learned how the creature behaved, and intercepted one of its arms by thrusting his lance at it, the wound preventing it from raising its claw in time to absorb the heat of Shyvana's flames. The fire reached the monster's face as ir writhed in pain and tried to back off.

Refusing to let up for even a second with their assault, Irelia and Jax pursued it as it knocked over a couple of pews, their weapons finding their mark as the Driftshaker found itself too preoccupied trying to run away. It still had to deal with the burn marks on its face, which left it vulnerable to the point of her blades and the metallic clang of Jax's lamppost. She had wondered many times about what material really went into the makings of such a bizarre weapon, as it hit just as hard as a battle axe and looked much sturdier than its street corner counterparts.

Jax leapt towards Irelia as the Driftshaker's tail came flying towards him once more. "I think we're getting somewhere with this."

"You think?" Irelia parried one of its sharp claws with one of her own blades, using the other three to poke for openings in the creature's defense.

"The attacks have to come one after another so we don't give it a chance to recover," he explained, diving to the floor to get under the arc of its tail. He scrambled to his feet and pulled her off to the side so he could speak more freely. "Once one of us strikes a blow near its hindquarters, Shyvana can shoot off some flames to its face, and then we can wound it while its claws are up near its face." He moved towards the other side of the monster so he could inform the prince and the dragoness of his plan. Irelia got the attention of Xin Zhao, communicating to him their strategy as well.

Since she no longer had Jax to follow up with her attacks, Irelia had to adapt to the different fighting style of the lance. Spearmen naturally held an advantage over shorter swords or blades because of their weapon's length, allowing them to maintain offensive pressure from a distance which left their opponent unable to retaliate. While the colossal size of their enemy nullified any advantage Xin's spear would have provided, he still exposed himself to less danger than Jax would have. The seneschal repeatedly prodded at the Driftshaker's inner legs, baiting the tail to fend off his attack. Irelia strafed around at perpendicular angles to the tail's orientation, carefully waiting for her opening. When she noticed it extend too far in its block, she made her move.

Dashing in with utmost haste, Irelia moved two blades in an X-shaped formation across the gap in the scales made by the start of its tail. The third struck upwards along the curve of its leg where she thought a major tendon would lie, while she utilized the last one as a longer dagger, thrusting it as far as she could into the wounds her previous attacks caused. The creature growled in its suffering, and Irelia made sure to back off quickly before its tail would trap her between its hind legs. The rush of air and another scream indicated that Shyvana had successfully executed her own part of the attack, and as Jax had predicted, its claws went up to its face. While it clumsily attempted to fan away the flames burning its skin away, Jax went in for its underbelly, the lamppost eliciting a surprisingly distressing reaction. The Driftshaker returned its claws back to their normal elevation, swiping at Jax, but he spun the lamp over his head, blocking all its blows. His Counter Strike soon completed its form, and he brought the weapon down in a powerful arc, cracking the kneecap of one of the beast's forelegs. He backed away just as quickly as he had gone in, respecting its strength, but Irelia understood that their calculated attacks would eventually wear the titan down.

The Driftshaker had caught onto their tactics, however, and began to quiver, more armor appearing on its body in the places where they had struck at earlier. Even its face, the primary recipient for their draconic attack, had began to grow thicker skin, and Shyvana's flames had less of an impact on it, allowing its claws the freedom they needed to block the potshots they had originally gotten off. A frustrated Irelia sidestepped a smashing motion from its tail and moved over next to Jax, who had moved over to the creature's right side in attempts of discovering a new angle.

"It's no use now," he said. "It's covered up all its vulnerable parts, and even if it's left open any other regions, I don't think we'll be able to reach them any time soon."

Frustrated, Irelia telepathically threw her blade at its tail like a boomerang, the steel harmlessly bouncing off its heavily armored tail and ricocheting off at an odd angle before Irelia regained control of it and returned it to its orbit around her body. "So what are we going to do?"

They heard the slash of a sword cutting through the wind, followed by a shriek of pain coming from the Driftshaker. Irelia thought she had seen a figure dash across the side of the monster, but it had moved so fast that she could only make out a blue blur. She looked around the staggering giant for the source of the new challenger, and widened her eyes in surprise when she recognized the blue and gold armor of the Demacian Royal Guard. Only a select few had the honor of bearing the symbol of Demacian courage, and Irelia couldn't think of a better person to come forth and lend their aid.

Fiora Laurent stood up from her crouching position, backing away from the Driftshaker, but smirking at Irelia as she walked towards the Ionian. Her light blue eyes shone with an intense luster as they peered at Irelia from under her cavalier hat. "_Bonjour, mon chérie. _You look like you require _mon assistance, _no?"

Before Irelia could think of any words to say, Fiora turned the opposite direction and stopped to stare at the Driftshaker for a second, focusing on the figure while bending at the knees in a typical fencer's stance. Then, without a moment's notice, she lunged forward and slashed near the heel of its left leg at a blinding speed, making herself impossible to block. She didn't stop there, either; as the creature's tail moved up to meet her she nimbly vaulted onto the appendage and kicked off into a somersault, gracefully landing onto its back. With a twirl of her rapier, she plunged its edge into a crack between its scales, eliciting yet another pained reaction from the Driftshaker. It arched its back and tried to spin around in its attempts to disorient her, but Fiora had already moved on from the location and headed straight for its neck, slashing diagonally at the armor. Her third strike didn't wound it to the extent that her first two had reached, but Irelia could tell she had made just as much progress in the span of a minute than the five of them had reached in fifteen.

One of the Driftshaker's claws had scratched her on her descent, and she nearly stumbled as she headed back towards Irelia and Jax, but she managed to keep a smile on her face and a grip on her sword. "Not a perfect execution, but I've given it a few worthy wounds."

"Tell me again how you managed to do that?" Irelia had rarely heard Jax sound confused, but Fiora's inhuman speed and accuracy had successfully bamboozled the grandmaster.

"By striking its vitals," Fiora answered with a not so subtle smile. Irelia knew from observing her fellow top laners that the swordswoman often regarded Jax as one of her sworn rivals, and she derived a lot of pleasure from besting him in anything. "I had to compensate for being bed-ridden more than once over the past few weeks, so what better to pass the time than reading up on the anatomy of the human body?"

Jax looked like she had just smacked him over the head with a rubber sword. Irelia didn't know whether to look impressed or concerned over her friend's choice of hobbies. Fiora reveled in their confused looks, drawing her blade once more to return to the fighting. "But we are not done yet. The last weak spot is all the way up on its face, underneath its right eye. I need a sufficient distraction so I can climb up its back again and reach the vital."

Jax and Irelia shared a glance; they understood what they needed to do. While Jax went over to relay the information to the Demacians, Irelia got herself into position. They couldn't inflict any meaningful damage due to the creature's increased armor, but it still wouldn't enjoy taking repeated hits to its limbs from her blades and the spears of Xin and Jarvan. The Driftshaker turned its front towards her for once, which confused her. She thought it had to keep facing Shyvana because it couldn't endure her flame attacks any other way, but a quick glance to the other side of the monster gave her the answer. The Half-Dragon could not maintain her larger form forever, and had regressed into her human size. She did not transform back out of exhaustion, merely out of a loss of pure dragonfury. Shyvana, having a mixed ancestry, could not fully reap the benefits of the noble dragon lineage and could only fight in her dragon form when the fury awoke in her.

A flash of light reflected off the Driftshaker's claws and blinded Irelia momentarily. The sun had appeared in one of the gaps of the dilapidated rafters and shone down in the center of the rundown arena, an unholy sanctification. She shielded her eyes with her hand, raising her blades preemptively in order to ward off any incoming attacks. Though she couldn't see its strike, she could at least hear its heavy body lurch forward. Focusing on its attack patterns and the training her father had given her, she envisioned the claw swiping at her body, and rolled to the side relying on nothing but instinct. She hit the ground with a heavy thud, but judging by the rush of wind dangerously close to her head, Irelia surmised she had dodged its attack.

Already in the midst of launching a counterattack, Jax took advantage of the creature's overextension to smash the head of his lamppost into the wrist of the outstretched arm. The second layer of armor covering the Driftshaker's upper body had slight gaps on its joints, and Jax could only aim for its joints, hoping to bruise the lightest covered areas and slow down its reaction time. Shyvana had launched two jets of flame from her hands, but she could not summon up the larger infernos from before, so they did not harm the beast as much as before. Still, when factoring in the persistent jabs coming from Xin Zhao and Jarvan, all the combined attacks continued to rattle the Driftshaker. Fiora had stood on the sidelines, biding her time, but leapt into action when she saw her chance.

Irelia began to think Fiora had exaggerated her time of hospitalization because she radiated vitality, her legs bounding up the creature's prone form like a jackrabbit in spring. She grabbed onto a spike on its back with her left hand and pulled herself up, maintaining her balance through the Driftshaker's best efforts to dislodge her. The duelist carefully made her way across its spine and onto the back of its neck, stopping about twelve feet away from the weak spot near the eye she had pointed out. Irelia could see where the difficulty lay in striking the final vital. Fiora would have to jump off its neck in order to achieve the distance needed to slash her sword across the area, but if the monster rotated its body towards the opposite side of where Fiora stood, it would never reach her. So the champions on the ground would have to find a way to hold the creature's head in place until Fiora could carry out her strike.

She heard the Driftshaker cry out once more, and upon surveying the battle more closely, Irelia saw their golden opportunity. Xin's spear had found its way into the kneecap of one of its legs, causing the creature to precariously sway to one side. The Demacians seemed to have bided their time as well, for Jarvan boldly leapt forward straight at the beast's face, relanding on the ground with a tremendous impact creating enough force to fracture the tiles beneath their feet. Pieces of the floor popped up and the loose shards found their way into the Driftshaker's chest. Shyvana, who had since regained her fury, transformed back into her dragon form with a ferocious battle cry and launched her flaming body into the creature, pushing it further into the broken terrain. They had set the stage for Fiora's coup de grace.

Before the decisive final moments, Irelia felt a shadow of dread pass her. Was it the apprehension of banking the outcome of their fight in one crucial moment? Or was it some clever trick, a last resort which every monster of the Institute seemed to wear up their sleeve? Something clicked in Irelia's mind, and the next few seconds seemed to pass by in slow motion. Fiora made her leap of faith, rapier poised to slice through the grey skin of their enemy, but as she raised her hand to deliver the blow, Irelia's body moved by herself, her blades guiding her arms and legs. She threw herself onto the creature's side, furiously scrambling her way up as she witnessed Fiora move through the air.

The duelist's strike looked promising, a forehand swing cutting across from the front of the Driftshaker's eye to the back, but right before the sword made contact with the skin, thin crystal spears emanated from the behemoth's face, one knocking Fiora's sword out of her hand. She could only wave her hand through the air in the motion she needed to make, a harmless pantomime which ended just as sudden as it began. Fiora fell to the ground, her back taking the majority of the impact and knocking the wind out of her. The crystal spears continued to spread all over the room, growing thicker by the second and eventually blocking out Irelia's vision. She heard a couple grunts of pain, and a ear-piercing scream, but nothing clearer. Only her vantage point atop its back prevented her from falling victim to the piercing shards. She would have to deliver the final blow instead.

Trusting in her own resolution and the might of her blade, she ran towards its neck, leaping forward in an imitation of Fiora's ill-fated jump moments before, and threw all four of her blades towards the vital, their edges cutting through the flesh. A greyish-green liquid spattered out of the wound, and the Driftshaker lurched violently, careening towards Irelia in her descent. Pulling her blades back, she blocked the monster's claw one last time as it tried to pull her to the grave with it, and soon felt the ground beneath her feet. She didn't land gracefully, her momentum pushing her forward into a roll, but she eventually straightened out in time to see the Driftshaker rise up to its full height, teetering on its hind legs. In its final act of defiance, it threw itself towards the decrepit back wall of the cathedral, pulling the pillars all around them down with it. Irelia tried to pull herself up, place some distance between her and the collapsing ruins all around her, but she had completely worn out her body during the fight. Only a pair of strong hands lifting her up by her arms liberate her from the doomed ground where the grandeur of Demacia once stood.

* * *

Zed had never seen a graveyard before. During his short stay in the Kinkou Order, where even the eldest ninjas moved with the boundless energy of youth and the only deaths befalling their community happened to ninjas carrying out confidential missions, he found the order of ninjas did not go out of their way to honor what did not concern them. Leave the dead to the spiritualists, their sensei had told them. Years later, when he returned with the army of the Shadow and slaughtered the Kinkou in the temples where he had once sparred to infuriating stalemates with Shen, he decided he agreed with his last master. The dead had no use in the world he envisioned.

When he beheld the sea of corpses haphazardly strewn around him, all bearing the accursed symbol - the Delta - he had seen before they had captured him and tossed him to that god-forsaken maze to rot or lose his mind or both, he guessed they must have looked like this. The army of the Shadow Isles, under Kalista's leadership, peerless in death as in life, had made quick work of the Delta Syndicate's agents with the help of the remainder of the Winter's Claw they had reinforced. Zed relished in taking the lives of quite a few of them as well. They appeared weaker than when they had jumped him in Piltover. Whether he had grown stronger since that time or if the effects of the Oathsworn bond did anything to his powers, he would not know.

The last thing capturing his attention stood locked in battle with the leader of the Winter's Claw. Sejuani, upon seeing the ghostly army help turn the tables on her desperate tribe, nonetheless ordered the spearwoman to stay back from her duel to the death with a large armored figure. The obsidian armor covered every inch of its body, leading Zed to doubt whether a person existed in there or not. So while Kalista had turned her attention to squashing the Syndicate's forces, she had fought its mace with her flail, battling it to a standstill while its masked soldiers, all dressed in the same white armor, fell around it. They would soon blend in with the falling snow, Zed observed.

While the Winter's Wrath proved an equal match for the mysterious suit of armor, it had much more endurance than her, and Zed noticed both Sejuani's and her boar's movements turn sluggish as they circled each other in the thick snow. The mace her enemy wielded looked ready to bash her skull in if she moved a second too slow. To her credit, the Freljord warrior maintained a frigid fury in her eyes: her irises looked like two candles of blue fire, although whether she could maintain the flame or if her opponent would snuff the life out of her remained a mystery to find out in a few minutes' time.

Her body had given up before her will would. Sejuani staggered in trying to meet the armor's mace with her flail, and her boar instinctively retreated when it saw its master could not defend herself. Unfortunately it could not back up quickly enough, and while it did steer clear of the mace by the smallest of margins, its abrupt movements had thrown Sejuani off the saddle and sent her flying headfirst into the snow without even the slightest semblance of grace. The murmurs which Zed could hear lurking like insects beneath the surface suddenly went quiet, and only the howling wind provided the background for the final moments of the leader of the Winter's Claw. Zed considered stepping in, but he looked at Kalista first, as if he needed permission from her before he could act. Had he fallen in self-respect to the dignity of a slave, unmoving unless called for? He nearly stepped forward in defiance until he noticed the Spear of Vengeance make the first move herself.

"She is not the one who has spat on the sacred pact of kinship," her voice echoed over the battlefield. Stepping in between Sejuani and her aggressor, Kalista threw a spear into the suit of armor, halting its swing and causing it to turn its focus onto her. The mace came down fast, but it proved no match for Kalista, who darted to the side, over and over again, each step backwards bringing another phantasmal spear into the core of the armor-wearer. Zed noticed the suit of armor refusing to show any reaction to Kalista's painful injections, although it did slow down the more and more she threw. Eventually it came to a halt, and although he thought the spears had not even scratched its armor, it suddenly fell over in the snow with a soft thump.

Kalista walked forward to the motionless suit of armor, drawing out the first black spear which she had thrown. It popped out of its victim with a sizzle, steam escaping into the night air. She then headed towards Sejuani, who had not quite managed to find the strength to stand and could only kneel in the snow, one hand gripping her mace while the other also holding her up. The spearwoman stood over her emotionlessly, perhaps viewing her as a prisoner awaiting execution than a serious contender to the throne of the Freljord.

"Have you come to kill me as well?" Sejuani's voice came out bitter, the resenting taste of defeat fresh on her tongue.

"Your fate is not mine to judge," Kalista cryptically answered. She called for Thresh, and the warden floated forwards from the mob of ghouls expectantly watching their leader. "The commander of this treacherous army. Have you identified its soul?"

Thresh lifted his lantern, pointing it in the direction of the fallen suit of armor, and tilted his head, frowning. "Hmm. How quaint. I have looked everywhere within its essence, and yet I can't seem to find one." He sounded quite disappointed.

"It is not the only one of its kind. I can feel a great presence of these empty-shelled heretics in the south, but I cannot quite place their location." Kalista looked off into the distance, a thoughtful expression adorning her face.

"Oh, those things. I was wondering why I had this nagging presence nipping at me this whole voyage. They seem to all be congregating in the center of the continent. I wonder what could be possibly be there?"

Zed felt all the experiences of the past few days finally culminating, and despite the cold, a burning desire began to stir in his chest. Perhaps Kalista's equalizing agenda had rubbed off on him. Perhaps all his time spent with the undead had attuned him to their supernatural powers. But he could see the conclusion of his wayward path, the answer to the unsolved mysteries revolving around his altered being. The road would end where it all began - at the Institute of War.

* * *

Xin Zhao had ordered her to remain with the healers who had arrived at the remains of the cathedral, but both of them knew she wouldn't lazily sit around for even a minute. Irelia slowly got up, painstakingly placing one foot in front of the other, and hobbled over to the room outlined by crystal spears, a thorny prison whose barbed walls menacingly dared her to come through. She would not fall to the room's intimidating look, however; nothing would deny her from her goal.

She saw the seneschal kneeling next to a pillar of spears, and moved closer, confused by the sight. The structure stood fifteen feet tall and about ten feet wide, a great anomaly in the middle of the crystalline room. Only when she walked up next to Xin did she notice that he knelt in front of a crystal tomb, not a pillar.

Irelia gasped, her breath getting caught in her throat as she tried to convince herself that her eyes had deceived her. But the crouched-over form of the dragon standing in front of her was no mirage, and neither were the spears which had impaled themselves through her body. Shyvana had instinctively covered the prince with her larger figure in the hopes of shielding Jarvan from the razor sharp spears, but her efforts merely compounded the tragedy. The same spears which pierced through her had also stabbed through Jarvan's armor, pinning the two of them together in their final moments. Irelia dared to look upon the lifeless face of the prince, his gray eyes still open to the world but his expression no longer showing the strength of Demacia. She saw only shock and disappointment in his pupils, the exemplar probably still in disbelief of what had happened as the spears found their way into his heart.

"I did tell you to stay behind. You didn't need to expose yourself to this," Xin muttered, getting up from the ground. His face had reddened, his cheeks puffy as Irelia knew he had done his best to prevent himself from spilling any tears.

Irelia shook her head. "Death has already claimed me once. It will never hurt me again no matter how many times it comes knocking."

But she had begun to worry about what other victims the crystals had claimed, and she walked around the doomed lovers' tomb, pacing the floor completely littered with spears. She looked all over for any more bodies trapped under the oppressive lances, her mind moving a million miles a minute when she could not find anyone. Perhaps the spears had not lay waste to any more bodies, but then the question remained: where were they?

"I'm not dead, if you were wondering." Irelia turned around to find the owner of the voice staggering from behind a crystallized pillar, clutching his arm as he made pained steps towards her. A fragment of a crystal spear had embedded itself into Jax's arm, but he appeared unharmed everywhere else on his body.

She wanted nothing more than to throw herself into his arms then and there, but Jax's injured arm had stopped that idea. Instead she walked over to him with measured strides, gently wrapping her arms around his waist. "Don't even try making those jokes. You being alive means more to me than you could ever know." She pointed at the large tomb in the distance. "They're gone, Jax. The prince and Shyvana…"

"I understand, Irelia," Jax said. He returned her embrace with the one good arm he could use, running his hand tenderly over her back. "Are you hurt?"

Irelia shook her head. "I'm sore all over, but not actual injuries. Someone had pulled me out of the range of the crystals after I landed the killing blow on it. I just… never expected anyone would actually die from these attacks. The Institute's monsters are getting worse and worse."

Jax pulled away from her, taking her hand in his. "Let's just get out of here," he suggested. "These crystals don't sit well with me."

They made their way out of the cathedral towards a crowd of soldiers surrounding a couple of wailing women. Irelia recognized the blonde hair, despite its disheveled state, and lightly plated blue armor of Luxanna Crownguard sitting on the ground, cradling the much larger body of her brother in her arms. An older woman knelt beside her, who Irelia guessed as their mother. The Crownguard matriarch had stained her dress with tears as she wept for her son. The mismatched look of it all, the sheer unreality of the situation, rooted Irelia in her place. Jax let go of her hand, rushing to Garen's side as the once proud leader of the Dauntless Vanguard struggled to hold on to the last few strands of his life. He mustered up the courage to speak a few words to Jax, determining to relay the message before the fates spun the thread of his life out.

"You must… forgive me, my friend. I was… careless," he wheezed, coughing up his own blood between his words.

"Garen… please don't tire yourself out," Lux insisted. "The cleric is on his way, he'll save you, just please hold on…"

"Their claws… such vile substance… my justice could not stop the wicked." Garen took a few deep breaths, exerting a large amount of effort in trying to keep his circulation going. "Jax… the righteous must prevail. See to it that we… will succeed… in the end."

"For the brotherhood," Jax declared.

Garen smiled weakly as his eyes began to droop. "The brotherhood…" he agreed. "I am… leaving you now. The prince is… waiting…"

Jax remained there for a few seconds, hunched over Garen's body as it expired, enduring the grief-stricken cries of the soldier's sister and mother, before heading over to Irelia. From another side, Fiora strode over to them, her gait directed by purpose despite the lifeless environment surrounding the Demacians.

"I hate to be the insensitive one, but you are not here to help the Demacians get through their tragedy. We are a strong people, and we will rebound on our own terms," Fiora said. "But now, you are needed to handle a more serious matter. We must go back to the Institute at once."

"I think we've had enough running around Valoran," Jax agreed. "It's time to settle the final score with the High Council and finally get to the bottom of this."

"You're hurt though," Irelia protested, "and we're nowhere near the Institute. We can't just head back there whenever we want and avenge the prince and the others."

"How do you think I arrived here?" Fiora stepped in. "Come with me. The Seneschal will handle this mess, but only you two can solve the bigger problem." She lead them to the other side of the city block, away from the hordes of people still coming in when they heard of the destruction taking place at the cathedral. A small train, smaller than the ones used for public transport, lay on the tracks which parted two buildings. Three men, also clad in the same Royal Guard armor Fiora wore, immediately perked up upon her arrival. Two of them hastened to open the doors to the compartments, while the third strode up to them.

"It's been quite a while, Jax," Twisted Fate greeted them.

"Fate? What the hell are you doing out here?" the grandmaster asked.

"The Card Master tipped me off onto the fall of the Institute a couple of days before it actually happened," Fiora told them. "I was able to prepare a private train to take me back to Demacia before it actually happened, and it was only right for me to take him along with me. Of course, he had to disguise himself as one of the Royal Guards so the Institute didn't notice him stowing away on the trip, but it wasn't a hard task for someone with his sleight of hand."

"You flatter me, Laurent. But that's enough small talk for now. Things at the Institute ain't pretty, and from the look on Irelia's face I can tell things aren't exactly peachy on your end either. So hop on," he invited them, stepping aside to let the three climb into the train before he shut the door. "Nothing like a long train ride to do some catching up, eh?"

* * *

**A/N: **battle scenes take forever to write, ugh.

I loved the new Fiora until I realized her ultimate is super weak and doesn't really have much use outside of killing tanks, but I did manage to tie it into the story. Then we have like five thousand words of constant fighting before the damn thing finally calls uncle.

I had been planning death in this story for quite some time, but I realized it wouldn't have quite the impact I wanted since I hadn't introduced the characters long enough for you people to have any feels. Still, I felt it had to happen.

Everyone's going to be meeting up soon. It's looking like one big happy reunion, right? _Right?_


	26. The Demons Within Us

He remembered the cloudy sky greeting him when he first walked through the gates of the Institute. Four years ago, he had skeptically entered the main building, already peeved at accepting the terms of the heavily skewed contract which the summoners suggested he sign. He had laughed when they offered him the chance to call up a lawyer, but upon being teleported from his research at the worst of times to partake in League matches, Ezreal had lamented the fact that he did not pay attention to the fine print. The grim weather the day he went to the Institute to formally register his profile as an official champion of the League only worsened his mood.

"When you're not out adventuring and exploring, you have the right to a room in our dormitories," the summoner informed him, a brown-haired woman in her thirties. He had forgotten her name, a piece of information jumbled up with all the other strange names of people he ran into at the Institute and lost to the wind. Ezreal only bothered to remember the names of his fellow champions, mostly because he had to associate with them for the length of the match at minimum, and at the start of his career he had wanted to leave the grounds as soon as he completed his duty. He did acknowledge the merits of owning a bed at the Institute if he wanted to crash there for whatever reason, but he never made plans to actually interact with the population there. Only when the Crownguard girl introduced herself to him did his outlook on the League really change.

He first looked upon Luxanna Crownguard with a bored expression as he strolled upon the slate tiles of their team's base, making his way towards the bottom lane. As per his usual behavior, he paid no attention to the person assigned to serve as his support until he actually stood face to face with them in the actual Rift, only then choosing to go over perfunctory strategies and sharing of abilities for the two minutes they had before actually fighting. Ezreal would have lied if he said the girl had not captured his attention fairly quickly. She was pretty, with long golden locks of hair flowing down her shoulders, and he would even go far as to say she looked adorable with the light armor she chose to don on the Rift, but Ezreal had partnered up with his fair share of breathtaking females during his tenure working for the Institute. Ever the immature youth back then, he would sneak a glance or two every so often to admire Janna's hauntingly perfect figure, or gaze in wonder at how the summoners would allow Sona's very open display of cleavage. But even though Lux wore nothing revealing for Ezreal's imagination to visualize, he still felt drawn to her moreso than the other women he had met. Maybe he saw something in her eyes, bright blue spheres, not like the stormy eyes of Janna, or the aquatic lenses of Sona, but truly authentic sapphires, complete with a twinkle in them which manifested every time she spoke to him.

She acted so much like a princess, even though he discovered she didn't belong to the royal family, rather to the family of the stewards who stood by them for centuries. After they played matches together she would stick around and talk to him, asking a few questions about his life. At first Ezreal only gave her standard stock answers, but Lux had a knack for conversation, an affinity for reaching past the surface and finding the words to get people interested in talking, not just to her, but to themselves. It didn't take long before Ezreal began to share stories of his travels with her. Tales of his wild exploits and swashbuckling adventures dazzled her, and she would always sigh in admiration after he finished, even if she could tell he had clearly embellished a fact or two. His ego seemed content to feed itself upon the praises she would give him, enough to the point that even though she had refused his romantic advances - not because she didn't like him, but because of political reasons - they had agreed to stay close friends. He guessed a big part of aforementioned "political reasons" came from the overprotective nature of her brother, Garen, who had immediately taken a disliking to Ezreal, addressing him by the flattering titles of "common thief" and "villain" whenever their paths crossed.

Only when Ezreal had stepped in to protect Lux from a rogue Zaunite street gang during one of her covert operations (she insisted on "diplomatic vacation," but Ezreal could see right through her) did he finally earn the grudging respect of the elder Crownguard. The one incident eventually served as a catalyst for their friendship to develop, and both found they could learn a lot from each other: Ezreal finally understood enough of the workings of the League from Garen to understand that contributing to its well-being would mean more governments would commission him to survey some unknown frontiers or purchase some of his maps, and Garen had swallowed his pride long enough for Ezreal to demonstrate to him the proper use of a hextech gunblade. Despite the soldier's continual refusal to stoop to such pitiful levels of combat, as he called it, he realized that if he had not familiarized himself with the most current editions of military weaponry, he would find himself sorely outclassed not only on the Fields of Justice, but on the real battlefields during one of his many military campaigns. "You wouldn't want Katarina du Couteau to get the upper hand on you, would you?" Lux teased him, and Ezreal had never quite seen any spectacle which equalled the sight of the Might of Demacia blushing.

But now Garen Crownguard lay in a marble tomb in the Demacian capital, according to Fiora, and the big brother he would never have had left the world on his last campaign, from which he would not return. Ezreal tore his gaze away from the cloudy sky which greeted him once again as the company drew up to the gates of the Institute for what he hoped would be the last time, and set his mind on the impending confrontation. "Let's do this."

"That's my line," Jax cut in, and Ezreal had to hold back a groan. He would never understand how one man could joke so much yet still hold the attention of everyone else in the room whenever he chose to say something remotely serious.

"Vayne is waiting for us in the northwest wing of the main compound. The Institute has not quite erupted into chaos on the surface, but they had quietly taken the Judicator and the Piltover law enforcement duo into custody to prevent them from speaking up," Kassadin told them.

"Makes sense for her to be there," Ezreal said. "No one's been in the northwest wing for so long it's probably filled up with cobwebs by now."

From their meeting with the Prophet, Ezreal and Janna went along with Kassadin through a convergent portal, as the Seer had called it, which Malzahar had opened up for them, taking them directly to the Institute. Before their transit the Prophet briefly explained the way Voidborn portals worked: all of Runeterra had traces of magical flux in it, some regions holding greater concentrations than others. Mages called portals which transported them from denser flux regions to sparser ones convergent portals, while they called the opposite divergent portals. Icathia had one of the densest flux values around Valoran, so Malzahar could use convergent portals to go from it to nearly anywhere else on the continent. Requiring less initial energy from a mage made convergent portals easier to create, which allowed Malzahar to channel the energy needed to create one on such notice. Either way, the two of them had shied away from the idea of using any Void-related method of transport, but they had agreed to doing so when Kassadin himself vouched for the safety of such measures. "I have used some of them myself when I had wandered the Void, but only Malzahar can actually summon them by his own power," the mage had said. The Prophet and Vel'Koz had to stay behind to re-enter the Void, having to wait for sufficient energy to create a divergent portal because the Void had the highest concentration of magical flux in the entire known universe.

The yordles remained behind, and although Rumble had tried to summon up his bravado and volunteered to help in the fight at the Institute, his peers insisted on him staying home to keep the ship afloat. "Someone's got to stay behind to protect the home front," Tristana had told him, and he reluctantly agreed to protect Bandle. Nidalee had went along with them, her duty remaining first and foremost to the forest which the weapons of the Institute had tarnished. Ezreal knew of the mysterious regenerative capabilities within the Kumungu Jungle, but an explosion of that caliber might prove too much for the trees.

He was glad for Janna staying by his side since he had gotten himself involved in the conflict. The wind mage proved herself a true support in all senses of the word, protecting him from any threats which got too close to them and doubling as an understanding, if not relentlessly teasing, ear to confide in. He had begun to see the blonde as more than just another impossibly attractive woman once they had gotten closer, and he considered Janna a true friend. She still acted incredibly coy around him, housing some mysterious secrets which she covered up, out of Ezreal's reach like the winds she commanded, but he resolved to eventually get through to her. Maybe after everything was over he might finally get some time alone with her.

When last he saw Jax and Irelia, Ezreal easily spotted the flirtatious undertones hiding beneath Jax's prompt orders and Irelia's readiness to follow him. The way they looked today, however, one would've thought that they had never met in their lives. While no one still could ever read the Grandmaster's facial expressions, Irelia seemed distanced from Jax and everyone else, her eyes always wandering off to gaze at something in the distance whenever someone addressed her. Jax maintained his playful mood, but Ezreal could sense the tension in his voice increasing the closer and closer the group got to their rendezvous point. The group needed to turn one last corridor, and Ezreal could feel everyone begin to tense up, expecting an ambush. He saw Twisted Fate ready a card from his sleeve, the duelist unsheathing her rapier, and Irelia's blades quiver ever so slightly.

Ezreal heard a dull thud and the sound of a man groaning before he saw the body fly towards the wall at the other end of the hallway, a massive crossbow bolt pinning the man in place. He dressed like the summoners of the Institute except he had white robes over the customary purple and a strange triangular symbol upon his sleeve. Beside him, he noticed Janna's eyes perk up at seeing the man's apparel, but Ezreal didn't have much more time to consider what it might have meant as the group immediately ran at the man, pointing their weapons at him.

"You can leave him be. I've already handled things here," a woman's voice said. The Night Hunter got up from her crouching position, draping her crossbow back over her shoulder. Ezreal caught sight of another body sprawled behind her, a man with a strange gun in nearly identical clothing.

Vayne mopped her brow with the loose end of her cloak, all semblances of decorum long gone. "It'll take more than a couple of dogs from the Institute to put me down." She pointed down the hallway, towards the entrance to the High Councillors' Chamber. "As far as I can tell, whoever's behind all of this is behind those doors with a couple of those creatures lurking around." The Institute normally restricted access to that area, only opening it up at times when a new potential champion made their way to the last part of the application, the Reflection. Ezreal had only gone into the Reflection Chamber after his induction into the League given the strange circumstances in which he joined, and he shuddered as he remembered the mentally taxing environment of the room and the near-reality of the events which the summoners brought up for the champions to witness.

"I'm afraid I wasn't alone in my undercover work," Vayne continued. "The three Kinkou ninjas showed themselves around here a few minutes ago and forced the door open. They probably believed they could handle all the wickedness in the room and bring the Institute back to that equilibrium they love to talk about. I made no attempt to stop them. It would have been counterproductive for me to walk in there prematurely while I was waiting for all of you to show up, and you would have an easier time stopping Malphite than trying to convince the Eye of Twilight that what he was doing was foolish."

Irelia rushed forward after hearing Vayne's tale, her blades quickly following her. "Then we have to help them fight whatever's in there before they get themselves killed!" Ezreal didn't share her enthusiasm, and looked over at Kassadin to see what the Void Walker thought about it, but it seemed the rest of the group was still trying to take in the information Vayne gave them. Even Jax stood there awkwardly, torn between following up on Irelia's idea and wanting to stay back and gauge the situation.

"What are you all doing?" Irelia yelled at them. "Shen, Akali, Kennen, all of them need our help, and you're all too scared to come help them?" Ezreal had encountered a furious Irelia before, and he did not want to cross paths with her, so he started to take a few steps forward. But Twisted Fate decisively moved in front of him and gestured in another direction, prompting a raise of the eyebrows from the Ionian captain.

"You wouldn't be the type to keep going when there's someone at your back, I reckon?" The Card Master threw a card into the air - a jack of hearts, Ezreal saw - and the dark corridor flooded with light, a brightness which revealed a presence in the hallway none of them had noticed before. A shadow appeared on the ground in the shape of a person, a very familiar shade which Ezreal dreaded seeing. It rose up from its two-dimensional position, gaining height and took on a proper human shape, like one of those black and white facial composites Ezreal would sometimes see at the police station. Once it had completed its transformation into a full human form, the color began to flow into the frame, the gray and red filling in the spaces between the otherwise black outfit of the Master of Shadows.

Ezreal stiffened, instinctively preparing his gauntlet, but Zed's appearance confused him. Janna had mentioned to him how Jax and Zed had gone to Piltover together to find her before the Institute's forces could, and while they had successfully taken her away, they had separated from Zed in the process. The wind mage had no idea what had happened to him, although she never really considered him part of the group. Jax had refused to speak about the matter altogether. Had something happened to Zed which made him change his mind about helping the group? Was Zed secretly on the Institute's side? A thousand similar questions passed through Ezreal's mind, but he ended up focusing on only one: What was that green mist surrounding him?

Zed paid no attention to the majority of the group, focusing his gaze towards the center, where Jax and Janna stood. "I see you've managed to survive," he said, and everyone knew who he had addressed.

"I never doubted you'd still be alive, Zed." Jax warily stepped forward, sensing something amiss with the ninja. "What happened to you? Did the Delta Syndicate capture you?"

The sound of a shuriken drawn from Zed's armguard put Jax on alert, and he instinctively adjusted his footing into a fighter's stance. "I took the fall for you," he snarled, spinning the weapon between his fingers. "You have no idea what I had to endure to make it back here. You could never understand."

"We had to save her. It was what we came to Piltover for," Jax calmly replied. "We didn't know who even took you, much less know where you had went. And the Syndicate's thugs were all around the city, so we couldn't spend the time to look for you even if we had any idea what to do."

Ezreal hadn't the slightest clue what kinds of trouble the two referenced, but he figured Zed had some kind of misunderstanding. "And you wish to settle this by attacking Jax?" Kassadin questioned him. "With the support of all of us behind him?"

"He is not alone, Void Walker," an eerie female voice echoed. The narrowness of the hallway made it impossible for Ezreal to place the voice, and he spun around in panic while the others also looked all around for the source of the warning. He soon realized that the mist surrounding Zed began to condense, turning into a thicker cloud of smoke which dissipated and revealed an armored spearwoman, with a green wispy link of the smoke connecting the two.

"The Spear of Vengeance," Vayne identified her, a deliberate tone emphasizing every word.

"There are betrayers in our midst," she confirmed, raising her spear and pointing it at all of them in turn. Ezreal didn't know if she labelled them all betrayers, or if she deemed one of them guilty but could not figure out which of them exactly. What sort of betrayal was she referencing? Ezreal didn't think any of them had done anything of the sorts since their involvement with the Institute's plot, at least not to his knowledge.

Janna spoke up in protest. "We didn't betray him! We never asked him to sacrifice himself for us. We were attacked by surprise, and when we realized what was happening Zed didn't give us any other choice!"

Kalista regarded her with cold, unsympathetic eyes. "The souls of the victims who are wronged do not lie. The outcry has reached its loudest point in this very hallway. We need no further direction. We can read the guilt written on your souls."

"But even with the specter's help, you still cannot hope to take on all of us," Fiora responded defiantly, her rapier at the ready.

"You forget the power of the Shadow Isles," Kalista corrected her, moving closer to Fiora, a short enough distance that Fiora could easily lunge at the spearwoman and slash through her with a quick strike. "You cannot kill that which is already dead… and I shall never let my Oathsworn go with his work unfinished."

Zed had had enough of the idle chatter, and quickly moved towards Jax in an attempt to immediately incapacitate him, but the grandmaster did not easily fall prey to surprise attacks and deflected the blow with his lamppost. The ninja refused to let up, throwing another shuriken at Jax's neck and rushing towards him before the weapon reached him, aiming at Jax's midsection with the two armblades. Jax barely dodged the flying shuriken, but his sudden movement threw him off balance and only the saving gust of wind coming from Janna prevented the Master of Shadows from piercing through him. The rest of the group had begun to respond to Zed's attack, but Kalista raised her hand, and a barrage of green bars descended from the ceiling, barricading Jax and Janna away from the rest of them. Even the bolts from Vayne's crossbow or the particles of energy from Ezreal's gauntlet could not slip through the gaps in the barrier, as they seemed to simply disappear upon making contact with the partition.

"You shall not interfere in my Oathsworn's ordeal," Kalista ordered. "You shall live or die by the black spear's trial."

"Don't worry about us," Jax told them, and Ezreal saw him make eye contact with Irelia. "Go help the Kinkou. We'll be there once we're through with this."

Janna had a determined look in her eyes, which flashed a shade of dark grey. She met Ezreal's gaze, and her face showed unwavering resolve. "We'll be with you soon enough. I promise."

It wasn't right for her to have to get caught up in whatever agenda the Spear of Vengeance had, especially considering they came to rescue her. Janna couldn't have controlled what happened to the three of them, and Ezreal could feel his anger threatening to tear out of his skin right there. But he kept his temper out of control, knowing that keeping calm and staying focus would pay off at such a pivotal time. "Then let's finish this business with the Institute, once and for all," Irelia ordered, the Ionian leading the way towards the door to the High Councillor's Chamber. Ezreal wordlessly followed her along with the others, but before she turned around he could see the fear and worry in her eyes. She couldn't endure the feeling of knowing she couldn't turn around and help Jax, just as Ezreal felt the same way about leaving Janna behind. They had bonded together the entire time during their travels all over Valoran, and Ezreal didn't notice how much he relied on her until her absence bore a gaping hole in his heart.

They found the doors locked, unsurprisingly, but Twisted Fate volunteered his expertise, admitting to a fair bit of thievery in his past. The surprises never stopped with the Card Master, Ezreal thought as the double doors began to swing open, and the six of them passed through into the darkness awaiting them. Ordinarily, a ring of hextech lights would illuminate the large, circular room, but the summoners had either turned them off or broke them, and the only light source came from the electronic display of his gauntlet. He took a position at the front of the group next to Irelia and Kassadin, and they walked through the narthex of the room which opened up to the main portion, an open space which led to the Reflection Chamber opposite them, the High Council offices on the right, and the Field Analysis rooms on their left. An orb of light hung over the door to the Reflection Chamber, granting them some vision, and Ezreal could barely make out the cursive inscription which lay near it: The truest opponent lies within. But as they got closer to the marble doors at the end of the hall, they found their enemy perched upon the ramparts, eyeing a singular figure sprawled upon the ground.

Akali struggled to lift herself even a few inches, one of her kamas lying on either side of her a few feet away. Her customary green outfit had numerous rips and tears, probably a result of the Institute creature's assault leaving it in tatters. Ezreal noticed a gash near her ear, the blood freely dripping down her face, and rushed to her aid before the creature swooped down from its perch and flew between the group and Akali. Like its brethren, black covered its entire body, but none of them could take flight like it, its wingspan wider than the six of them standing side by side. It sported gigantic talons which would mercilessly rip Ezreal to shreds if he got too close to it, and the singular horn atop its head completed its thorny appearance.

Ezreal wondered where the other members of the Triumvirate had gone, but a earsplitting screech from the beast jarred his thoughts. Irelia stepped forward, her blades poised to launch themselves at the beast at a moment's notice. "I've fought this one before, up on Mount Targon, and I can defeat it again. Fate, make sure that you get Akali to safety. We should serve as more than a worthy opponent."

The gypsy grumbled behind them, and Ezreal could make out a few words, something about being left to do guarding duties all the time, but Twisted Fate snuck around the side of the creature while Irelia rushed headlong at the beast, two of her blades going for its legs while she held the other two near her at waist level. Fiora ran up from behind her, leaping onto the blades serving as makeshift steps as she used her momentum to throw herself at the creature's midsection, her rapier making contact with its wings. It didn't seem to mind, however, and threw the duelist off quickly with a beast of its wings. Fiora landed on the ground hard, rolling over to lessen the pain of the impact. At his side, he saw Vayne walk forward, firing bolts from her crossbow, but the creature either dodged them or shrugged them off without incident, and Ezreal pitched in with his own projectiles, firing up at its face where he thought they would have more of an impact. He might as well have thrown confetti at it, as the creature completely ignored his particles and swiped at Irelia, who stood directly in front of it. Kassadin managed to deflect its attack with his own blade, but his smaller mass meant that the force of the blow still threw him across the room. A simple Riftwalk allowed him to return to the battle without incident.

Irelia, left untouched, renewed her assault on the winged demon, using all four of her blades to attack its lower half. It seemed to take more damage from her attacks than either Ezreal's or Vayne's, so the explorer chose to merely run interference, shooting a couple of particles towards its eyes in ways where it would have to deflect them, even though he could not actually harm it. She finally seemed to land a blow as the creature cried out in pain, flinging the offending blade to the side, but Irelia quickly brought the blade back under her control and into orbit. Fiora had gotten back up from the ground, and while she would not try another of her daredevil stunts again, she raced towards the back of the creature and struck it in the back of its knee, causing its weight to come out from under it and making it stumble. Ezreal caught sight of Twisted Fate scurrying off to the side with the Fist of Shadow in his arms, doing his best to get himself out of the battle.

"All horrors like you still have your vitals," Fiora gloated as she expertly parried the incoming retaliating strike, the talon bouncing off the hilt of her blade and allowing her to spin gracefully under its outstretched arm and wound it a second time in its side. But as it started to reel in pain, Kassadin went for the creature once more, unleashing a sphere of purple energy towards its face. Vayne had switched her focus towards the leg which Fiora had not struck, and Ezreal tried assisting her in her efforts. Perhaps their shared focus would amount to as much damage as a strike from Irelia's or Fiora's blade.

He believed they had started to make progress, but the creature backed away, returning to its ramparts and out of the reach of anyone's attacks, save for Ezreal's Trueshot Barrage. He considered casting it, but waited to see what the creature would do, and it stretched its wings once again as they turned completely black. The small wounds Fiora's efforts had gotten them began to disappear from the creature, and a green aura surrounded it as Ezreal realized it was naturally regenerating its health. Casting the Trueshot Barrage, he aimed it towards the middle of the ceiling, knowing that the creature could not dodge if it tried to sidestep the arc of energy. If it remained where it lay, it would take minimal damage, but he hoped any sort of impact would stop its regenerative process.

The projectile did find its mark, as the creature did little to evade it except curl its wings back in, but Ezreal's attack proved to have little impact upon the creature, and it returned to the battle, taking on the offensive as it swooped down towards him, its dive-bomb increasing in speed as it drew closer. He hurriedly shifted backwards, converting his mass into energy for a second in order for him to avoid making contact with the creature, and dove to the side again as soon as he materialized, careful for a follow-up attack. He had dodged its initial advance, but it turned direction in the air and slashed its wings at him, revealing sharp blades on its edges. Fortunately, Irelia had stepped between them and blocked the creature's slash with her own blades, forcing it back onto the ground, where it rolled over a couple of times before it could get back up. She extended a hand, which Ezreal took gratefully. He saw Fiora rush forward, eagerly searching for one of its weak spots, but she seemed to lose her momentum halfway through and could only manage a half-hearted strike at its exposed shoulder. The creature easily blocked her attack, another extension of its wing forcing her back. She staggered, falling to one knee as she caught her breath.

"What happened?" he asked her, wondering what had caused her to lose her focus during her advance.

"I cannot tell if it is just exhaustion… but it has messed up my detection of its vitals. First it shows that it has no weaknesses, then every one of its body parts is weak, and I lost my concentration." Fiora's jaw tightened, and she got up once more. "No matter. Any strike which finds its mark will do damage, regardless of whatever sorcery this beast can use on me."

Their fighting did not improve, however. Every time Fiora and Irelia had made some progress wounding it temporarily, it could simply retreat to a safe height and regenerate its health. Without Janna to assist them, they could not match its sustenance, and quickly found themselves worn out, with neither Vayne nor Ezreal able to find the necessary damage to constantly attack it. It seemed completely impervious to Kassadin as well, shrugging off the pulses of energy he fired off, and only when he attacked it with his nether blade did he find any results.

It came to a point where they couldn't dodge its attacks all the time either, and Ezreal found himself taking a nasty blow to the shoulder where its talons had sunk into his skin. Vayne had managed to push it away with a giant crossbow bolt, but it had done it damage, and Twisted Fate called for him to take over the responsibility of watching over Akali while the Card Master joined the fight. Fate's appearance did little to turn the tide of the battle, as he suffered the same problem as Kassadin: it completely resisted their magic abilities. So Ezreal found himself once again constrained to the sidelines, watching the rest of the champions pull out all the stops in their feeble attempts to wound it, attacks which would completely annihilate him on the Fields not even piercing the tough hide on the creature.

Beside him, Akali began to stir, groaning as she tried to sit up. "Easy there," he cautioned as he examined her once again. Fate had torn off a piece of his cloak and used it to stop the bleeding on the side of her face, and although she still was in no condition to fight, her face had begun to regain some of its usual color, and she did not look like a beggar slumped at death's door any more.

"It must be… stopped…" she murmured, still lost in her delirium, before she realized that she was no longer fighting. "What...the Prodigal Explorer?"

"That's me," Ezreal answered. "What happened to you three before we got here?"

She resumed her attempts to sit up, and Ezreal put a hand to her back as he helped raise her, shifting around so his weak shoulder would face away from her. Her frame fell onto his body, as she still could not summon the energy to sit up by herself, so she resigned herself to leaning into his good shoulder. "We weren't strong enough," came her bitter words, laced with regret. "We just couldn't do anything to it, and it sat there wearing us out with his constant maneuvers while it healed the damage we could inflict towards it. Then it turned the tables on us, and Shen and Kennen jumped in front of me to take its attack. But even with their sacrifice, I could not face it alone, and it eventually got the better of me too. If you hadn't showed up, I would've…" Her words caught in her throat, and Ezreal could see how hard she tried to repress her emotion, attempting to maintain her composure and stoicness as a Kinkou ninja.

He couldn't find the strength to comfort her. Looking back towards the battle, he saw their situation fail to improve, and dread fell over him. They might have saved her, but could they save themselves? "Is it… just unbeatable?"

The two swordswomen had reached their limits, and the creature hovered over their faltering forms, Fiora almost not even strong enough to lift her rapier in her last chance at defending herself. Irelia's blades drooped as they emulated their master, dragging along the floor and not even having the energy to animate themselves. As the last swipe of the creature's talon came down upon them, a strong typhoon threw the creature back against the wall, and a healing aura descended upon the room, eliminating the wounds from Ezreal's shoulder. The cuts and bruises decorating Akali's face had begun to vanish as well, and with her renewed strength she quickly rose back into action, heading towards the group of champions to rejoin the fight. Ezreal got to his feet as well, seeing the new arrivals.

Janna moved a million miles per second pushing the melee ranged champions into safety while hovering around Vayne, giving her the much-needed protection for the Night Hunter to finally start dealing damage without the threat of being jumped on. The demon attempted to resist, but found its strength weakening as bolt after bolt from the Night Hunter slammed into its skin, their speed augmented by Janna's wind magic. And a familiar hooded figure charged down the hallway, leaping into the air ready to smash his weapon into the skull of the winged creature.

Jax did not hold a lamp post.

Ezreal had seen the weapon only twice before the summoners had chosen to remove it from the Fields, deeming it much too powerful. The reddish-orange blade shone with an unquenchable fire, a terrifying blaze which he had not gazed upon in three years. It seemed to bend as he wielded it, the flames dancing and twisting in the air as the arc of the blade curved towards the creature which backed away in fear. Jax's shadow appeared on the wall, lit by the flames of his weapon, and for a second he had transformed into an even more terrifying darkness, a true renegade solely focused on destruction. One did not simply forget the swath of carnage Jax cut when the summoners allowed him to use the weapon on the rift.

The Rageblade had once again found its way into the hands of the Grandmaster at Arms.

The gargoyle didn't stand a chance, as Ezreal watched in gaping admiration. The weapon spun rapidly in his hands as Jax grasped its center and wildly swung at the creature's wings, spreading its fire and causing the monster to howl in pain. It retaliated by tackling Jax, but he retained his footing and forced it back as the conflagration in his hands grew even larger, becoming more like a torch and less like a sword as he thrust the hellfire into the beast's neck, pinning it down while its body spasmed and erupted in giant black drops of liquid as its form began to melt. It did not bleed like Ezreal expected it to, instead becoming more aqueous until it finally dissolved into an obsidian puddle. The fire of the Rageblade still burned under all the ink-colored liquid, and Jax pulled his newfound weapon out of the remains of the creature with a strong heave before facing the rest of the company, who had all nearly been worn out to death from their struggle. The flames still burned brightly, illuminating all of their faces as they drew closer to him, surrounding the sole light source in the room.

Kassadin found his voice first. "The Rageblade…" he muttered in awe. "It has been ages since the summoners had hidden away that power. Why do you wield it now?"

"I guess you all deserve some explanation," Jax conceded. He did not sheath the blade, holding it like a torch as he waved the light around the room. On the far side of the area, slouched into a corner, lay the bodies of the Eye of Twilight and the Heart of the Tempest. "You may want to tend to your brethren first, Kinkou." Akali saw the prone forms of Shen and Kennen and hurried towards them, her steps silent as Jax eased into his story.

"We couldn't free Zed from his enslavement to that woman," he began, turning down the intensity of the Rageblade slightly so they could see his face - or well, his hood. "I didn't want to mortally wound him, but she willed him to fight as long as he could, and I wasn't about to roll over and give it up. So in the end I forced him to submit and beat him down until he couldn't stand anymore, and that's where Kalista stepped in. I couldn't fight her equally after Zed had already worn me out, but Janna is a true queen, bless her heart, and she kept me protected long enough for me to realize that I had no other option. I had to kill Zed."

The weight of his words hung over the group, and although Ezreal felt no love for the Master of Shadows, the concept of champions killing each other was completely absurd to him. Even Irelia, who had defended Ionia against Zed's order terrorizing the other sects of ninjas for not surrendering their arts to the shadow, visibly fidgeted at the thought of Jax bringing about Zed's death.

"Kalista chose that moment to throw spear after spear at me, but instead of impaling themselves in my body, they went for the lamppost. I couldn't deliver the final blow, and it shattered in my hands just as she caused that green barrier of spears to collapse all around us. Janna had conjured up a shield of the winds to protect us from the impact, but when the dust settled, they had vanished.

"I was originally going to come to the fight bare-handed, but as we were opening the door I heard the rattling of chains and that damn warden's maniacal laughter. We had thought Kalista had brought the entirety of the Shadow Isles with her or something, but Thresh had extended his scythe and I couldn't believe what he had brought to me. I didn't think I'd ever see, much less lay my hands on, another one of Guinsoo's creations, but the Rageblade lay in front of me, and I would've been a fool not to take it. 'Consider it a personal favor from me to you,' he said. 'Whatever you're planning on doing, I suggest you do it quickly. I don't think neither I nor the Spear of Vengeance could control the armies of the Ruined King much longer before they tear this place apart, and it doesn't matter if you are fighting against the summoners or not. They will take away every living soul in this building before long.'"

"Believe me, I was just as confused as all of you," Janna picked up, seeing incredulous expressions on Fiora's and Vayne's faces. "But the bottom line is that we don't have much time, and we have to end this now before we find ourselves in the middle of a bunch of the undead."

"And the souls of the Shadow Isles take no prisoners," Kassadin solemnly commented. He pointed towards the door of the Reflection Chamber. "Then, as it says. Our truest opponent lies within."

Ezreal made his way over to Janna, the wind mage throwing herself at him as Jax headed towards the front of the group and prepared to open the door. "You're alive," she whispered.

He couldn't find it in him to crack some smart joke even if he had the wits about him to think of one. "We all are. And now there's this one last fight, and we'll all finally go home, away from this nightmare."

"Don't you dare die on me now, with how far we've gotten."

"I won't," Ezreal promised, "not with you there by my side."

The doors opened automatically to Jax's advance, and a translucent glow came from the center of the Reflection Chamber, the sudden light blinding everyone. He had expected another dark room, but after witnessing what lay in waiting for them, he would've preferred to stay with his ignorance. A giant web of energy filled the majority of the space, thousands of light filaments criss-crossing the sphere. Standing in front of it, channeling a spell to continue fueling its resplendence, lay the very first entity which had begun the plague the High Council had released onto the League of Legends. The dark blue figure, with its skin completely encased in the skin-tight suit, had its back to the champions, but Ezreal saw a lone summoner in the purple robes trimmed with gold characteristic of the High Council standing on the second-floor balcony of the room, his arms outstretched in a welcoming gesture.

"I would expect nothing less than a team lead by my two most beloved champions to come here to challenge us," he greeted them. "You are all familiar with the Dreamweaver, so we need no introduction there." He summoned a pure white orb to float next to him as he descended to the ground level, pulling a strand of the web into the orb and drawing some of the energy for himself. "Jax, would you be so kind as to introduce me to those among you who have not had the pleasure to meet me?"

The Grandmaster raised the Rageblade in pure hatred, flaring up to its full size. "Your crimes end here, Head Architect Myrelos."

* * *

**A/N: **I think this strategy of finding inspiration to write 4000 words the day I finish the chapter doesn't exactly work out. The last half of the chapter is considerably more rushed than the first half from my perspective, but I really didn't want to write more fight scenes after last chapter. So I did my best to give some depth from Ezreal's perspective considering all the events which had to happen in this chapter primarily revolving around Jax.

If you didn't go back to Chapter 1 to read that short bit, you might not understand the Rageblade parts, but I hope it wasn't too confusing even without the added stuff from my rewrite.

Yes this is supposed to be Morello. I'm not sorry.

Final battle really soon hype!


	27. The Dream is Dead

Seventy-two bruises, by her count, she had suffered at the mercy of his lamppost. For a second she questioned her place in the League, wondering why she accepted a career where faceless people hoping to shape politics and change the lifestyles of thousands of people they would never meet used her as a fighting tool to achieve their goals. Irelia shook her head. Who did she think she was kidding? The blades had become her life, the only road she would ever know. She would etch her legacy into their history as Ionia's most stalwart defender with the bloody edge of her blades, and if that meant participation in the League of Legends, then she prepared herself to do so.

She had not anticipated such a lopsided blowout upon her first match on the Fields. Upon finding that her first opponent was the self-proclaimed "Grandmaster at Arms" she considered his appointed title merely a show of arrogance and was confident that no matter the enemy, her trust in her blades would give her the strength she would need to triumph.

When the champions departed from the summoning platform, Irelia walked off last, her mind a tumultuous mess of frustration and fatigue after Jax had ran circles around her and systematically dismantled her fighting style. For a swordfighting style which had allegedly come from the heavens, Jax showed no difficulty beating her into the ground. She prepared herself for the long walk back to the Ionian quarters and her temporary room at the Institute when she bumped into the contemplative figure of the Blind Monk.

"Excuse me, Lee," she apologized, hastily moving to the side so she could pass. "I didn't see you there."

"Nor did I," Lee Sin deadpanned. "If you would stay a moment, Irelia. You are the League's newest face, and since I have known both sides of the rift, as a summoner and as a champion before you, it is my duty to make you feel as welcome here as possible." He paused, his hand lightly grasping her arm to check her heartbeat. "Your mind is troubled after your performance today."

"It's nothing serious, I assure you," she sighed. "I have yet to familiarize myself with all these different faces, and… well, let's say I would rather not have met Jax the way I did today."

The monk chuckled. "It is said that a champion has not yet had their first true test on the Fields of Justice until they fight against Jax. He has walked the fields of battle longer than any other human member of the League, so it is expected that people who have never heard of him before tend to… do less than well. But as you know, these battles test not only your individual skill but your ability to work as a team. As powerful as Jax may be, he cannot win matches by himself. And he can be less than cooperative at times."

Powerful people would butt heads with others of similar nature, Irelia knew from her limited experience in politics. "Isn't it counterproductive to take in selfish people like that if the object of these matches is to act as a group?"

"Usually such personalities come from powerful city-states where they send their strongest warriors to serve as champions. The Noxians all share this ambitious personality, as you can tell by the way Katarina du Couteau carries herself around," Lee explained.

"Even the angels who apparently hail from a different universe have found people to work alongside and align with," Irelia noted, remembering how she had seen the Judicator and the crown prince of Demacia walk together in the halls debating the merits of various sorts of government. "But Jax just seems like one of those self-serving mercenaries only interested in himself and money."

Lee frowned, realizing the contradiction Irelia's argument had brought up. "Who can say what Jax is really looking for here? None of the summoners know his story, save for the former High Councillor, who had left office not long after Jax's arrival."

She willed one of her blades to swing through empty space, cutting the air in her frustration. "What a character. Thanks for the help anyways, Lee. This does make me a little curious… has any champion who went up against Jax while they were still new ever defeated him?"

"There has been one rather extraordinary case, I will admit."

Irelia noticed the change in the monk's tone. "It was you, wasn't it, Lee?"

The monk chuckled. "I attribute it to the discipline I have undergone for years and a large amount of luck. But what struck me about that moment was when Jax came towards me after the game. He always struck me as an odd fellow, but I had expected some kind of variation on 'good game.' What he said instead was quite confusing."

"What did he tell you?" Irelia wanted to know.

"'You beat me today. Thank you for showing me that someone could.' It was not the cockiness of a braggart, Irelia. It was the relief of a burdened man."

* * *

The myth had become a reality after all.

Head Architect Myrelos was known to the masses as more of a concept than a real man, to some a dangerous scientist, to others a champion for progress, to himself a visionary ahead of his time, to all a lunatic dangerously toeing the line between ambition and insanity. Irelia had entered the League in the middle of the rise of power of the now defunct Department of Fair Play, which analyzed a champion's capabilities and scaled them to relative power so ordinary fighters like herself and Jax could fight on an even plane with supernatural creatures like Cho'Gath and Nocturne. Its chief functions integrated themselves into the larger overarching Field Analysis group and the Institute had cancelled the funds supporting its maintenance, leaving it to rot and fade away, but in the earlier days of the Institute it had a considerable amount of influence. Even more surprising was how little information regarding its specific goals and methods it released to the public eye, which meant anyone who wished to know what they did firsthand had to enter the department to find out for themselves. Many of the summoners who had worked in the department spread rumors of an eccentric researcher who would take champions into the Institute's laboratories and devise unique weapons for them to employ in battle, all under the premise of achieving a balance between the fighters.

They had called Irelia in as the model for another promising item concept, and she had accepted their invitation, curious like all the others about what actually happened behind their closed doors. It seemed like a regular examination room, complete with all the standard medical equipment she might've found in a typical doctor's office, but they had instructed her to lie down in their operating chair, do some preliminary checks on her heart rate, her breathing, her eyesight, and would you just drink this mixture so we can ensure your excretory system is functioning properly, and before Irelia knew it, she had passed out. When she woke up, she found herself back in her room, a note taped to her arm informing that her first League match to test out the new Trinity Force would occur in a few hours.

She would never forget the outcome of the match - everyone marked that day as the beginning of Irelia's ascent to the higher echelons of champion status. Never had they witnessed such raw strength, stamina, and agility on the fields of battle since Jax himself had first walked upon them. The High Councillor told her she had Architect Myrelos to thank, but Irelia told him she had never heard of that name before. He had given her a good-natured chuckle at her ignorance. Her efforts asking amongst middle-ranking summoners and her fellow champions did not bear any fruit, and she had begun to believe the Myrelos character was nothing but an illusion. She would've kept that opinion to the present day, had she not bumped into Jax on her way out of the pavilion where the Institute held all their matches. The Grandmaster had never spoken more than eight words to her whenever they passed each other, but Irelia decided it wouldn't hurt to ask one more person. Calling his attention for a second, she had asked if the name Myrelos rang a bell. Jax claimed he knew no one who called themselves that at the Institute before walking off, but Irelia noticed the way he visibly stiffened at the mention of that name indicated otherwise.

The matter dropped into the outer recesses of her mind as time went on, but she found the name thrown around at the latest scandal within the Institute, when the High Council of Equity announced their discontinuation of the Department of Fair Play. Their official statement had only mentioned "inhumane crimes and violations of competitive integrity" as the reason for the mysterious disavowment, and it seemed like a matter which the Institute was determined to sweep under the rug, constricting even the media's prying eyes and ears on any information related to the department. But they could never stop the rumors traveling from one mouth to another, and another name found its way into the grapevine, a supposed upcoming candidate to the League, a Rakkor warrior named Helveticus. The Department of Fair Play had ushered him in without the majority of summoners and any of the champions knowing - supposedly - and intended to experiment on him in secret. Myrelos' name had popped up in increasing frequencies, and Irelia had guessed he had headed the team intending to experiment on the Rakkor before the Institute had disbanded it. No one knew if they had completed their testing before their disenfranchisement.

She ducked under another crescent of energy, its white color indicating the amount of purity it retained. Most manifestations of drawing energy from the matter around a mage shone yellow, like the particles which came from Ezreal's gauntlet, but if it did not come through any sort of manmade regulator, then the energy glowed white, a much more powerful state of matter, but also much more dangerous. On a command from Janna, she took to the air, her blades paralleling her streamlined shape. The winds pushed her up as she swiveled in midair, ducking underneath the barrage of shots. Irelia caught the railing with one hand and pulled herself onto the balcony, landing in a crouched position. Jax took a similar stance to her right, and after Ezreal and Janna had arrived on the upper floor, they had surrounded Myrelos on all sides.

His precarious position did not worry him in the slightest. He looked like he had intended for them to orient themselves as such. She eyed him carefully, not risking to make the first move until she knew what he could pull out.

The sound of steel colliding rang from below them, the other four assigned to deal with the Dreamweaver and its dream web. Irelia drew her concentration back to the enemy in front of her just in time to deflect a shot of energy the architect cast from his orb with one of her blades. To her left, Janna had pushed it away with a swing of her staff, the energy getting caught up in the wind. On her right, Jax simply sidestepped the blast. Ezreal lifted himself off of the ground; he had likely ducked. She drew closer towards Myrelos, ready to react to any long range arcane shots he might fire off. When Irelia found herself close enough, she focused her energy and closed the gap quickly, surging towards the mage. She prepared to follow up with a slash of her swords, but an invisible forcefield had completely neutralized her momentum and she crumpled to the ground, a sharp pain throbbing in her forehead.

"I studied your techniques from the moment you entered the Institute," he mocked. "You think you can use them against me?"

The sound of a smoldering fire blazed near where Myrelos' voice had came from. Irelia looked up, finding Jax collide with the forcefield and fall back, even the Rageblade not enough to pierce through Myrelos' defenses. She struggled to get back to her feet, but Myrelos' barrage of magic could not get to her, her retreat covered by Janna's storm shields.

Myrelos' barrier had dropped for a second, and although it shot back to full strength the next moment, Ezreal had fired a mystic shot in the small window of time it had given them, and the architect recoiled in annoyance. "What the…?"

Irelia peered through the thin gaps of the balcony floor, catching a glimpse of Kassadin lunge for the dream web and cutting off one of the strands. The bulbous form looked like it had retreated within itself, subsequently filling the temporary gap with another of its strands. She understood what fueled Myrelos' protective wall and why the Dreamweaver occupied itself with the web. It acted as their energy source, which made the mission of the four below them simple: get to destroying the web, and they would render Myrelos defenseless. For now, however, he remained impervious to them, and knowing the second group might get past the Dreamweaver, he resolved to focus on destroying the champions in front of him.

Myrelos charged with blinding speed, nearly too fast for Irelia to react, but her blades extended her instincts when her mind simply could not process her surroundings fast enough and rose in an X-shape to block the blade grafted from energy which Myrelos had created. He forced her back with raw strength as she had to surrender ground to him, making sure to veer ever so slightly to the side so she wouldn't get pinned between him and the guard railing.

A slashing sound from below indicated that they had cut through another string. Jax took the opening, charging from the side, the Rageblade summoning all of its fury. Myrelos dodged to the side, the distance he placed between himself and Jax enough for the barrier to recover, and converted his momentum into an assault towards Janna. She could not move fast enough before he tackled her into the wall, the forcefield blocking the energy from Ezreal's gauntlet. Irelia moved to drag Janna away from Myrelos while Jax rushed between them, preventing him from reaching the women. While he couldn't directly strike Myrelos through the shield, the architect could not strike Irelia or Janna either.

Irelia left the wind mage under Ezreal's watch and turned around just in time to catch Myrelos' energy blade between two of her own. This time she made sure to push him back away from Janna, her four blades giving her vastly more control over the area as Myrelos tried to keep Jax and Irelia at bay. They both waited for the right time for their group below to temporarily disable the shield, and if Myrelos did not position himself correctly, they would pounce upon him immediately.

The forcefield dropped once more. Myrelos had anticipated it, pushing Jax back with a spell of matter manipulation. Irelia raised her blade, closing the distance. She tasted the raw matter of his weapon, a slight electrical surge coursing through her hands. The electricity swirled around them, bright sparks of white and blue erupting all around her. She couldn't risk separating her blade back into four - the static would only magnify as it bounced between the fragments and shock her even further. Her feet tried to step forward, but the force of Myrelos' blade kept her from raising them.

A blur of movement, and the pressure left her. She straightened, renewing her pursuit of Myrelos with newly gained vigor. An immense force threatened to throw her off her feet, but she bent her knees, leaning forward and staying close to the ground to keep her balance. The crackling of flames filled her ears. Jax, she realized. A huge fire emanating from the Rageblade connected with Myrelos' energy blade, the excess heat from the reaction channeling into the air around her. The effect of the matter augmentation wore off, but Irelia's compromising stance which prevented her from falling backwards now made her lose her balance, and she fell forward. A second thump hit the ground. She raised her eyes, finding the purple robes of Myrelos above her. The whizzing sound of the energy he wielded descended, ready to crash down onto her.

The plasma in Myrelos' hands fizzled out. Irelia saw a golden playing card fall to the floor, looking up to see Twisted Fate step in and immobilize the mage long enough for him to draw another card from his sleeve and slash at Myrelos, the second card bursting into flames. The architect hastily cast a turquoise spell of protection; he had cleansed Fate's combustible card. Another strand of the web fell underneath them. Irelia had gotten back to her feet, but Myrelos drew the white orb to him and muttered an incantation, sending a wave of repression through the room. "Fermata."

The color in the room faded, replaced with an oppressive shade of grey, and Irelia realized he had silenced all of them. Twisted Fate found himself unable to pull out any cards from anywhere on his clothing, and the Rageblade in Jax's hands had lost its flames, showing a simple charred sword. Standing in the middle of all of them, Myrelos crouched to the ground, placing a hand to the surface, and pushed down, destroying the entire balcony and sending them them crashing down into the center of the dream web. The color returned for a split second before Irelia felt the sphere's gravitational pull and a wide expanse of white light envelop her from the legs up.

* * *

_Bennet looked at her with mortification. "My lady, your arm is completely drenched in blood! Please allow me to attend to your wounds at once. I have a rag near the sink; please take a seat at the table so I may treat you."_

_"It is not mine." She staggered, commanding her arms to pull it a few more feet. "Well, the majority isn't."_

_Only when she had completely walked out of the doorway did her servant notice what she had brought with her. "My word… is that…"_

_"The Grey Wolf of Dunham's Peak, yes. It is hardly worthy of being a corpse now, but you can still make out its fangs amidst the mangled fur and blood on its face if you look close enough."_

_Once Bennet had the remains of the beast moved to the basement, he returned with a look of consternation, his gaze switching towards her bandaged arm. "You are lucky the wolf did not bite a centimeter further, or you would've lost all movement in your fingers. This is what I've been telling you, my lady. Who knows when the last one of these hunts will be your last?"_

_She tried making a fist. She then slowly opened up her fingers, wincing as the stretching tore at the ligaments. It would heal in a couple of days. "Then I will have fallen with at least one more horror felled by this silver."_

_"You cannot really risk your life purging the land of all these creatures. I understand your lack of faith in the constabulary, but this is the reason why they exist, so there doesn't need to be people like you acting like one-woman armies!"_

_Her crossbow had one last bloodstain on it. She wiped it off on the rag with her free hand. "If the people knew the extent of what was really out there, they would not trust the police either."_

_Bennet pursed his lips, his expression a mix of confusion and concern. "Then why do you continue with this?"_

_She removed the scarlet-tinted glasses, letting her eyes settle on her servant. "Because the innocent and the pure do not deserve the truth."_

* * *

_Only a handful of convenience stores stayed open at this hour, and she knew the further into the city she wandered, the less reputable they would get. It had been a while since she went so late into the night on business, and she drew the ragged cloak around her tighter, turning her face away from the bite of the chilling wind to no avail._

_She ran across the street towards the light of the store, knowing no cars ever drove past this part of downtown, nearly throwing herself inside and slamming the door shut to hide from the wind. And the crooks._

_A disinterested young man, probably in his early twenties, sat at the counter, skimming over a magazine which had pictures of the latest hextech cars filling its pages. She sighed in relief, thankful she had not met up with either the Noxian immigrant or the middle-aged lady with the glasses much too large for her face. Either of them might have yelled at her for making so much noise upon her entrance, or even shooed her out of the store for her appearance._

_She handed over the lone bill and an assortment of coins to the youth at the counter, who placed the money into the register after adding her total to make sure she had paid enough, and gave her the go-ahead. Keeping her hood up and her face away from any surveillance cameras, either inside the shop or outside, she pocketed the two granola bars and briskly left the store, heading for the alleys again._

_If she had any luck, the rich family on C Street would've thrown out another storage box. Her small frame would fit into it and cover her for the night, allowing at least some shelter from the elements, especially the polluted air which you would see anywhere you went in Zaun._

_The dim gas lamps guided her steps as she rounded the corner. Lo and behold, an empty cardboard box lay next to the dumpster of the big red house under whose awning she had slept for more than one dangerous, terrifying, lonely night. She ran towards the box, eager to shut herself away from the problems of her life for at least a few hours, but footsteps behind her told her she wouldn't see peace. Spinning around on the balls of her feet, she recognized the two men closing in on her. She called them 'gatekeepers,' though they really didn't differ from the typical thugs around the neighborhood. These two had slightly more brains than the rest, though. They had caught on to her habits of going around late at night, and when she came back with the money some of the older kids on the street had given her for her services, they took it upon them to ask her for a cut of the pay. They gave her a simple deal: cough up the money, and we'll let you walk by and swear we never saw you. No deal, and we'll beat it out of you._

_This night, however, she had to save all of the money on her food for next day. She didn't know when next she could get one of the mob leaders to spare her a bit of cash, and she definitely wouldn't consider selling herself to that shady establishment with the dim red light over it. Clutching her cloak around her, she made a run for it, and they followed, realizing she wouldn't pay her cut. The chase didn't last very long; the gatekeepers knew the alleyways of Zaun just as well as she did, and with their number advantage they had managed to press her into a dead end. She backed away into the shadows, grasping at straws for any opening. Any saving grace._

_She looked overhead, spying a rafter on the second floor of one of the apartments. If she could jump high enough off the dumpster, then maybe…_

_Their footsteps rounded the corner and she knew she didn't have much time. She could make out the glint of the chains hanging out of their pockets from that distance, and they rapidly began closing in on her. Scrambling up the grime-covered container, she gave one last look at her goal. One last deep breath, and she jumped._

_As soon as she kicked off the dumpster she knew she wouldn't make it. The rafter seemed galaxies away, getting farther and farther the further in the air she traveled. Her fall would bring her right into the hands of the gatekeepers, and she tried not to think about what punishments they had in mind for her for trying to evade them._

_She never touched upon the ground. One of the two thugs cried out, and as she looked at her surroundings she noticed the rafter just within reach of her, and not so far away after all. She leaned towards it, and her entire body moved fluidly, as if swimming. Something didn't add up, but a look towards the ground, far below her feet, told her the whole story._

_She was flying._

* * *

_The sunrise stretched over the waters which held the ship taking him away from her._

_You can't go, not you, she had insisted frantically. Send another one of the sergeants, let one of your superiors do this instead, anyone but you._

_It's my duty to leave in order to save our country, he tried to explain to her. And it's my duty to return in order to protect you. She fought back the tears waiting to flow down her face. Even at this moment, she would not let him see her cry._

_You have a duty as well, he reminded her. She pulled away from him, determined to show the strength in her complexion. Who will protect Ionia when I'm gone?_

_I will, she told him, and his amber eyes shone like a pair of sunstones, glistening with the reflection of the sunlight on the bay. When they had grown older he became much more fond of his little sister, his teasing giving way to constant encouragement as she strived to follow in his footsteps and carry out the legacy their father left behind._

_He turned away from her to survey the look of his homeland one last time. The trees grow back their leaves earlier every spring, don't they? he asked her._

_Our forests have never looked stronger, the elders told us. All of Ionia seems to thrive right now, and it's ironic, isn't it? she responded. With the Noxian fleet landing any day, the countryside chooses this moment to show off all its colors._

_Mother Nature is a fickle woman, isn't she? he agreed. I'd like to see this sight again when I get back. The expedition shouldn't take us more than two weeks heading there and back. Tell the cherry blossoms to save some of their flowers for me, will you?_

_His ever-present good mood was contagious, and she failed to repress her smile. Only if you tell the king to send us a hundred ships to escort you back home._

_You really doubt my survival skills on the open sea, Irie? His laugh echoed over the waters as he put one foot onto the ship, preparing to leave her at last. I'll be back before you know it, I promise._

* * *

_The flames encircling the village did not frighten him. The cries of the dying among the dead did not sway him. The threat of Death emerging from the shadows, cutting the string of his life away with one motion of his scythe, did not faze him._

_He had his orders, and he would oversee their completion before even fate could get a word in._

_The chaos of the battle did separate him from the rest of the battalion, but he figured the isolation served him better. He never did work well in a team, not because of his lack of ability, but because of his overabundance._

_His legs carried him through the length of the village and over the dying embers of the devouring incandescence towards the mountaintop, bent on following the tracks of the elder who had escaped with the Celestial artifact._

_Through a clump of pines he ran in heated pursuit, lashing out with his sword to knock away the defenders who tried to step between him and his target. He didn't have the time to fully deal with them, but he could leave them with a memento, his blade slicing the tip of one of the men's noses as he swept past them._

_Arrows flew by, aiming for a single man who scaled the side of the mountain clutching a small spherical object in his hand. From the archers' distance it would take a tremendous amount of accuracy to hit such a diminutive target, but the sheer amount of arrows meant that a few would eventually hit their mark. The wooden shafts found their mark, embedding themselves into his robes, but the elder kept on going, fueled by the conviction of a doomed man who still had his purpose. The most dangerous kind of all._

_He quickened his pace, closing the distance between them ever so slightly, and found that another officer had beaten him to their quarry. Perhaps his work here was done. The officer drew his own sword, easily outpacing the elder weakened with several arrow jutting out of his leg. One stroke would end him._

_He found himself thrown off his feet by a powerful wave of golden energy. The elder had opened the artifact and the officer, standing right next to the epicentre of the blast, crumpled to the ground, his torso cleaved in half._

_The wave of energy passed over his head and extended outwards to the mountain on the opposite of the ridge. He watched in disbelief as the ring sliced through the middle of the peak, causing a massive landslide as the rocks from the top of the bisected mountain came crashing down. The mountain upon which he stood suffered a similar fate, and he would have sworn the world was ending._

_A golden beam of light descended from the top of their mountain, expanding to fill every inch of his vision in absolute brightness. He closed his eyes in anguish as a horn blew from the summit and thousands of bells seemed to chime in response. When his sight had returned to him and the blinding radiance disappeared, the elder and the officer were nowhere to be found. In their place stood a demonic figure, an eight foot tall sentinel wielding a red sword which bore markings eerily similar to a human's blood vessels… and they even seemed to throb like veins. The demon stood over him, examining what he had found._

_"This was supposed to be my greatest work. The celestial beings have put an end to the bloodshed, but the blood price has not yet been paid." He brandished his crimson blade over him, and he couldn't find the strength to raise his sword even as a symbol of defiance._

_One grunt of pain escaped his lungs. "If you're going to kill me, then get on with it." He bowed his head, waiting for the end._

_He felt the wind howl as the blade descended, suddenly stopping in midswing. Confused, he dared to look at the demon once more, and he had a thoughtful expression on his face. "A meaningless death would be a waste. No - you shall bear our brand, and wherever you walk upon this earth, carnage and destruction shall soon follow."_

_The demon pressed his blade into his neck, and his screams rent the night air._

* * *

_She heard her countrymen rally behind her. The tide of battle began to change, and her blade led the charge as they swept down the hillside._

_Two Noxian soldiers stepped forward to block her path. Her blade cut through the shoulder of one and sliced the neck of the other man. She had passed them before their bodies even hit the ground. Bring out your next men._

_The sounds of the battlefield proved much too noisy, and she reached deep into her mind, bringing up the meditative stances her father had drilled into her long ago. The Crane Glides Over the Water. She grabbed an intruding lance with her sword and used it as leverage to swing around, driving her heel into the side of a soldier's helmet. Leap of the Jade Panther. She ducked under the swing of a battle-axe, propelling herself forward and pressing her father's sword through the chest of another Noxian. His armor had given way as easily as paper. The Waters Crash Over the Falls. A leap into the air, her blade guiding her direction, as she watched two soldiers charge into each other and impale themselves on each others' spears before she stabbed the blade into one and drove the other into the ground with a kick. The Whirlwind in the Desert…_

Irelia frowned in confusion as she watched her blade spin horizontally, mercilessly slicing through a line of soldiers. Her past self spun her hands clockwise, mimicking its rotation, and the whirling death continued to knock down the Noxian battalion. But she did not remember using such a technique, whether during the invasion or as an ability on the Fields of Justice. Yet she watched the memory play through, the details as vivid as the pastel colors of a painter's masterpiece, and she recalled every other detail of the battle except that one technique, the Whirlwind in the Desert. She never forgot a single lesson her father had given her. Why could she not remember now?

The scenes began to flash by quicker. A blast of magic as Karma flung the soldiers to the wayside. The flash of steel as Master Yi appeared by her side, a ring of soldiers lying dead all around them. The ferocity of the Spirit Walker, who grappled with each opponent one by one as he threw all contenders to the ground and tore out their throats. The dark energy of the necromancer who had sentenced her to death depriving her of her senses, of her strength, of her soul…

And then a shadowed figure standing in a laboratory, his sinister smile as he pulled the lever which started the operation. She understood what he had done.

Her perception shattered into a thousand pieces, the first image appearing to her mind being one of Kassadin tearing through the broken remnants of the dream web. The structure attempted to rebuild itself, but Twisted Fate had pinned the Dreamweaver down, the blue figure struggling to free itself from his grip, and the Void Walker absorbed all the excess energy into his Void Stone. Irelia tried to take hold of her surroundings again, and her blades circled her, a gesture of reassurance. She looked for everyone else: Jax looked away from her, the Rageblade still a living fire in his hands; Janna leaned heavily on Ezreal, the wind mage heavily affected from the memories reliving themselves in their minds; Vayne's expression remained stoic as ever, and Fiora already lunged at Myrelos, eager to pit her strength against his. The mage had looked completely distraught over the destruction of the web, but he raised up a shield of energy to block the duelist's sword, pushing her back.

"Very impressive, Void Walker. I knew we couldn't hold you down for long," Myrelos applauded them. "Then we'll finally have a fair fight, eh?"

The door behind them opened, and a phantom figure rushed towards Irelia. Her blades rose to defend her just as she pivoted to the side and saw the blade pass next to her face. Though she could only see blurs, she would recognize the gilded edge anywhere.

"Master Yi?" she cried out in confusion. "What… why are you here?"

The Wuju bladesman said not a word, merely gripping his blade tighter as he rushed to deliver another blow. Where she thought he would strike, she aimed her blade, but her block found only air, and a sharp pain in her back informed her that Yi had appeared behind her instead. He continued onto his assault, his blade wildly swinging and permeating all areas of her vision. His figure glowed purple every other strike and an apparition of him materialized for a second, swinging the sword in the same manner. But it wasn't merely a trick played on Irelia's eyes - she could feel the blow of the phantom's blade as she struggled to match every single one of his strikes. Yi's agility triumphed over her in the end, and Irelia fell to the floor, clutching her side.

Before he could put an end to her, Fiora stepped in front of them, parrying the fatal descending blow and forcing the swordsman back. She moved with a grace exceeding Yi's, and her advances equalled his attacks in speed and agility, while maintaining a finesse only a trained duelist could possess. She spared a second to catch Irelia's eye. "Fight him! I will deal with your fellow Ionian."

Irelia faced Myrelos, The blades called out to her, pleading for her to let them exact their vengeance upon him. The way they floated in front of her, wildly pulsating towards the architect, spurred her on, and as they rushed together to face the enemy once more, she could truly feel the blades breathe the same way her father had done.

Their weapons collided once more, the sparks coming down upon her forehead as she focused all her energy into bypassing his defenses. She saw Jax come up from the side in the corner of her eye, and she pushed forwards, aiming a precarious strike at his neck. Myrelos jumped away, pushing her back while intercepting the Rageblade with a veil of an aqueous substance which doused the flames for a second. But the flames revived, and Jax moved to trap Myrelos against the wall as he and Irelia closed in.

She heard rustling along the floor, and she watched in horror as a few stray strands which had remained after Kassadin's destruction of the web began to draw themselves together. The Dreamweaver had knocked Twisted Fate out and fired pulses of energy at Kassadin, who managed to blink away from them, but he could not fight the Dreamweaver while letting the web reform. Vayne attempted to pin them down to the floor with her crossbow's bolts, but it did not stop their coalescence.

Splitting her blade into two halves, Irelia moved the two swords as if dual wielding, swinging at Myrelos' right side while feinting an attack to the left. As he moved to block the two-pronged assault she spun, changing the direction of the second blade as it swerved around them and pierced him in the side. Jax followed up after breaking through the veil of water, the Rageblade nearly setting the architect's robes alight if not for his quick reaction of conjuring a barrier to absorb the flames.

"Enough!" he shouted, drawing forth a tome from the folds of his robes and summoning a series of translucent walls separating them. Irelia swung at the obstacles, making some progress, but neither she nor Jax could get to him while he began to murmur an incantation. The white sphere hovering around him changed into a long chain link, throwing itself at her and curling around her blades. She found her arms restrained and although she could still move the blades, their edge could not cut through the chains made of pure energy. The walls configured themselves to separate her from Jax as well, and the grandmaster shifted his focus to the chanting Myrelos, Rageblade in hand as he sprinted forward to interrupt the spell.

Before he could leap towards him, Myrelos reached out his hand and pulled it back, constricting the chains around Irelia tighter. She cried out in agony, and Jax turned around to look at her, conflicted on whether to run around the walls to come to her aid or press on to Myrelos. In his second of hesitation, Myrelos pulled the trigger, drawing a hidden dagger from beneath his robes and thrusting it into the grandmaster's neck. Jax crumpled to the ground, and the flames from the Rageblade gave out.

Whether the chains had dimmed her senses or whether her mind and eyes simply could not reconcile what she had witnessed, the flow of time grinded to a standstill for Irelia. The cables wrapped around her continued to tighten, cutting off the flow of oxygen coming to her lungs, sucking the very life out of her. She might've heard a sound in the distance, the steps of her fellow champions coming to her aid, but in those crucial moments she could only see Myrelos and Jax and her blades and the edges of her vision begin to give out. Irelia's feet threatened to give out, her balance teetering on a knife's edge.

Not today.

She called the blades back to her, combining the two halves. Ordering their path with her mind, she commanded them to spin. They seemed to look at her with doubt, but she would not let indecision dull their blades at this time. Clockwise, the huge blade began to oscillate, rotating faster and faster as she gazed upon the spinning form. The Whirlwind in the Desert. With her last reserves of strength, she threw herself upon it. The edge cut into her skin, but she continued, trusting in her will to control its path. It felt like walking through quicksand, and the pain tore through her stomach as she pushed on, crimson liquid spilling out from the wound and splattering her face. Just a little more, she could sense.

Irelia emerged on the other side of the blade and looked down at her chest. She had remained in one piece, but the blood, a darker shade of red than her armor, had exploded all over her body, dripping down her arms and legs. She disregarded off the matter, and willed her blade back to her side. Her gambit had paid off. They would never harm her, as long as she possessed the will to rule over it. It obeyed her command, and she could finally make out its whispers.

_Give us our prey._

_His blood will satisfy your thirs_t, she told it, and she charged once more.

He could not match her fury and bloodlust, using all the energy he could muster to simply deflect her strikes rather than block them. Myrelos tried to distance himself from her once more with a cast of a momentum spell, but Irelia simply came back roaring at him. A flash of white on the grey edge of her blade. She felt him retreat. Her blade curved into a horizontal position, and she flipped over it, tackling him to the ground. Myrelos wriggled out of her grip by transporting himself a short distance away just in time. Flash, she realized. But his last evasive maneuver did not bring him far enough from her range, and she threw her sword at his right arm. He shifted his body to the side, but the blade turned in midair, as a dancer would pirouette, and Irelia was ready to pin him to her sword.

Myrelos rolled to the side, towards the body of the Grandmaster, and in her blind rage Irelia had nearly drew her sword against Jax before she realized the precarious position they found themselves in. The architect had raised up Jax's motionless body in front of him as a human shield. Irelia split her blade back into two, ready to thrust them into the side of his skull if he made any move to harm Jax.

"I see we've reached an understanding," Myrelos sneered. "Drop the blades, or his life is over."

She spat on the ground in disgust. "You are worth less than the worms that slink upon the earth." Janna had come towards them, she spotted in her periphery, but what could the Storm's Fury do? Out of all the combat specialists with them, the mage, she hated to say, would help the least.

"And I thought you Ionians were all about harmony." The white sphere reassembled as his side. "I'll give you ten seconds."

Janna moved quick, Irelia wouldn't deny it - but she found herself in an impossible situation. After how far they had come, she didn't dare let him go, but could she pay the price of justice with Jax's life? She kept telling herself she had to stay strong, to show no signs of weakness. Did she have the strength to save his life? Did she have the resolve to watch him die? What was strength to her now? What was courage? What was right?

The wind mage was trying to catch her attention, and Irelia looked to Janna, who had positioned herself just behind Myrelos and Jax, off to the side and nodding her head furiously. Irelia furrowed her brow in confusion at what she could mean, scanning her mind to remember what sort of abilities she had previously used to help them in combat. Myrelos, Jax, and Irelia all stood in a line, so whatever gust of wind Janna would summon would hit them all. But after a moment of contemplation she realized what the Storm's Fury intended, and she tried her best to hide her smirk.

"What will it be, Will of the Blades?"

Irelia raised herself to her full height, drawing her blades back. Myrelos might have thought she intended to step down, but Irelia had no such plans. "You took the Institute, you took our powers, you even took my memories..." She threw her blade, and Myrelos pushed the grandmaster's body into its path.

The incoming gale pushed Jax off his feet and threw him to the side, just as the blade sped towards him and into the chest of a shocked Myrelos.

"...but you will never take him away from me." The last of her energy expended, Irelia saw a white light begin to engulf the room, and the sensation of Janna catching her fall, bringing her to peace as she faded back into oblivion.

* * *

She awoke to a serene face smiling down towards her and a bright light. Perhaps the angels had finally come for her. The ground jumped and the sound of a train moving dispelled those thoughts, and as her eyesight became clearer, Irelia found herself in the seat of a train compartment.

"She's awake," Janna called out, and a relieved Ezreal and Fiora came into view, weary smiles on their faces.

"What...happened?" Irelia couldn't muster more than a whisper.

"Other than you totally kicking that guy's ass?" Ezreal took the seat across from her. "We couldn't fully destroy the dream web, but we did get the Dreamweaver. Vayne had put so many bolts in that guy I mistook him for a training dummy at the end. But yeah, when you stabbed him in the chest he fell backwards into the web and it swallowed him up. We expected him to come out any second, but Kassadin had reminded us that the army of the Shadow Isles was about to come through the doors so we had to make a run for it."

"You are on a Demacian train heading back to the capital," Fiora informed her, removing her cap and letting her brown hair funnel down the side of her face. "The Night Hunter and the Void Walker chose to leave by their own way - something about unfinished business Kassadin wanted to attend to."

"And Jax?" Ezreal and Janna shared a look before nodding, and Ezreal got up from his seat. "I think we'll just give you two some privacy," he said, winking before the three of them left the room. After a short while the Grandmaster at Arms entered through the sliding compartment door, his steps heavy as he hobbled over to where she lay. Jax paused, looking over her prone form.

"You look like a mess," he declared.

Irelia wanted to laugh but a cough left her throat instead, and he reached upwards to the overhead compartment, bringing out a bottle of water which she accepted gratefully. When she had satisfied her parched throat, he swooped down and planted a kiss on her lips. She giggled. "What was that for?"

"For being you," he answered. "Can you sit up?"

Irelia tried, and with the help of Jax supporting her back, she twisted into a passable sitting position. He slipped into the seat next to her and wrapped his arms around her, her head leaning into her shoulder as he rubbed up and down her arm.

"Demacia's bound to be a mess with the prince, the dragoness, and the leader of the Dauntless Vanguard dead," Jax spoke as they lay there.

"Mm." How eloquent of her. "But Fiora has a duty to her country, and she has to help them rebuild. What about the others?"

"Fate straight up disappeared, according to Janna. I don't doubt him, and within a couple of days I'd imagine him in the back of a Bilgewater tavern swindling some drunkards out of the last of their paychecks. Ezreal and Janna are going back to Piltover, but you could've assumed that much."

Irelia coughed again. "Right." She remembered one more champion there, the one who had turned against them. "What happened to Master Yi?" she asked, afraid of the answer.

"He wasn't in his right mind," Jax said, his tone grave. "It turned out he had been the traitor from Ionia all along, or at least Myrelos had destroyed his memories and made him into his personal hyper-combat slave. At least Fiora gave him a peaceful death."

She leaned further into him. "He was more than just my friend. A teacher, a thinker, the man who fought alongside me when Noxus invaded…" Her thoughts turned to her country. "Ionia. I guess with the Institute gone, I'll have to go back there."

"So you will."

"What about you, Jax?" she asked.

He looked into her eyes, his expression unidentifiable as always. "Where else would I go? I was the Institute's brainchild and with it destroyed, I have only one obligation left and that's to remain by your side."

* * *

**A/N: **We did it boys.

If you couldn't tell, I got really, really sick of fight scenes. So what better way to fill up the chapter than with a bunch of ambiguous flashbacks right in the middle of the final battle? There's some background yet to be explored with Jax, so expect a lot more from me about our favorite Grandmaster.

To whomever has been with me this far, thanks for reading till the very end. I liked writing this chapter, although I felt something lacking in the 8,500 or so words here, but I used to be a perfectionist and bad habits never die quickly.

I'll probably write a larger author note in the epilogue which will come out shortly as well, so don't consider this the actual end of Trinity because it /is/ pretty crappy lol. I'm all tired out but boy what a ride. I hope you all enjoyed my very first story here. I'm out again, for now.


	28. Epilogue: Verity Unveiled

She liked summer least among the four seasons, but she couldn't deny that the long periods of daylight conveniently allowed them to bask in the beauty of nature and the outdoors for extended periods of time. The rivers carried off the melted ice which broke off the mountains in winter, the streams trickling down towards the ocean and carrying all manners and colors of koi and trout and other fish. And the songbirds who made their nests high atop the trees in the evergreen forest conducted their symphony with touching inspiration, the notes taken up by other animals on the ground as they darted in and out of the shade which filled the clearing where they sat. The fox sitting opposite Irelia picked up the melody, humming a few measures to herself as she and Irelia watched two figures go at each other again and again, sparring with bamboo staves.

Wukong wielded his weapon with unmatched dexterity, easily blocking his opponent's attempts to bypass his guard and land a blow on him, but Irelia sensed that his adversary held back his full strength. Jax did show his mastery of weapons, although she noticed a distinct change in his fighting style, an almost laid-back, relaxed the other hand, Wukong moved with boundless energy and vitality, and Irelia saw the shadow of the deceased Wuju master in his staff. Wuju always needs a master, Irelia remembered, and the monkey had become the last person on Valoran to follow its path. But Yi had emphasized the necessity to pass its teachings down to another, and she wondered where Wukong would find such a student. It didn't look like Jax needed any lessons any time soon. The grandmaster hadn't lost his sense for finding errors in others' movements, and when Wukong took one step too far out, a switch had turned on in Jax's head. With a flap of his robes, he had pinned the monkey to the ground, a knee on the primate's chest and Jax's staff at his throat.

"Alright, uncle, uncle!" Wukong cried out, and Jax rose from the ground, lending a hand to his rival.

The kumiho turned to Irelia, taking a bite out of a peach, just one of the many fruits the group had brought on their excursion. "You are familiar with the legend of Wu Zugao, correct?"

Irelia nodded. "At the start of any swordsman's training, the schools here always share the stories of the Heroes of the Four Swords. Hu Tian, the Heavenswept, from whom the Hiten style comes; Jun Feng, the Watcher of the Wind; Li Shui, the Water Dancer; and Wu Zugao, the Unbreakable and the first practitioner of the Wuju style." Her father had instilled the lives of the ancient heroes into her mind, not because of their literary merit, but because all Ionian fighting style stemmed from the techniques of the four heroes, and to know the other three styles allowed one to know the basis of their opponent's moves.

"I see," Ahri said, watching the two combatants go for another round. "I had only recently started looking into the mythology of Ionia, and his story interested me. The legend said he had never lost a battle?"

She tried to recall how the texts went. Details of each story differed depending on the background of the historian, and followers of the first Wuju master often exaggerated his exploits. "All the ancient authors agreed that he had the most prolific battle record, although some say Hu Tian or Jun Feng matched him in skill. What we do know for sure is that after the period of the Warring Kingdoms, Wu Zugao had withdrawn to a small cabin within the mountains. Many aspiring swordsmen went up there, and he challenged each one to a fight where he would only use one hand. If they won, he would share his wisdom with them. He sent a hundred men back empty-handed, but -"

"Yes, I know this part," Ahri interrupted. "His student expected to learn some secret maneuver or special technique, but he only gave him one sentence. 'Learn the art of defeat.' The kid was really confused, but who can blame him? What kind of advice is that?"

Irelia threw her arms back behind her head, leaning against the large root of the great oak. "It's a hotly contested point of debate amongst scholars to this very day. Some say Wu Zugao wanted to hide his secrets, others think that the line meant for people to understand their limits."

"That's what you would call a maxim, not a teaching," a frustrated Ahri huffed. "It is of little consequence for people who seek to grow stronger."

"It's important to know what you're capable of before going into battle, though," Irelia argued. "But I'm no sage. Either way, you have me curious about something. What prompted your interest in our past? Were you looking for something that could explain your origins?"

The kumiho caught Irelia's eye for a second before turning away, her gaze back onto the sparring which Jax had won a second time. "Something like that. I was more interested in the philosophy of it all, about actually coming to terms with my humanity." She looked at her hands, wiggling her fingers as if she had just seen them today. "It's easy to lose yourself in what you're doing when you have to provide sustenance for yourself in such a sensual way. But I will never forget the events that led me to where I am now. Unfortunately, with the Institute gone, I lost one avenue into understanding my true nature."

Irelia thought back to that fateful day, too caught up in the intensity of the moment to grasp the widespread consequences of the Institute's destruction. Though it had turned against them in the end, it provided a failsafe to the ever-present threat of Noxus flexing its military muscle, and with Demacia's leadership in ruins, she knew Ionia could not rest for long.

Ahri seemed to sense the turbulence in Irelia's mind, nestling up to her. "It probably opened up a whole new purview for you, too, didn't it? I couldn't imagine what it would be like to have all those formerly lost memories suddenly restored to you, especially considering their significance."

"It's… a lot to think about," Irelia admitted. "One has to wonder how expensive the price of peace is, both inner and outer."

"Mm," came the fox's response, suddenly pushing herself away from Irelia at the sound of the two fighters heading their way. "My apologies, Jax, I would never have thought to steal your woman away." She tossed a banana from the basket to Wukong, who eagerly caught it in his hands. Rummaging around for a second, Ahri pulled out another item, offering it to Jax. "Grapefruit?"

When the two had left, Irelia found herself dipping her toes in the stream, eager to cool off from the day's heat. Jax sat beside her, idly glancing at their reflections upon the lucid surface of the water.

"Thinking about catching some fish?" she inquired as a pinkish-orange salmon swam between her feet.

"Not exactly." He swung his legs back onto the stone slab on which they sat, reclining along the ground. "He's still out there, I'm sure of it, and you saw what he could do to champions. A devastating skillset like his is sure to come into the hands of the highest bidder, and I'm afraid to see what a country could do with his ambition."

"I was thinking about the same problem," she confessed, flicking the surface with her big toe. The ripples temporarily blurred the image of her reflection staring back at her. "Now that there's no Institute to stop war, there's nothing standing in the way from Noxus rekindling its imperialistic designs."

"Our dilemmas are likely going hand-in-hand," Jax mused. "We've got a lot on our plate in the near future, and I hate to break it to you, but Ionia is going to have to a lot of heavy lifting this time around if you don't wish to see a repeat of the invasion from eight years ago."

Irelia had already accepted the grim reality. "I know. This time I will be ready." She turned to face him. "You'll be with me to help out, won't you?"

He took her hand in his, the warmth emanating from his glove. "Of course. I'm confident in your abilities to lead Ionia's forces. I'm confident in the tenacity of your people to not let the world go the way Noxus dictates. I trust you."

She wanted to say she trusted him back, and Irelia couldn't think of any reason not to place her absolute faith in the man who had saved her life countless times, but despite all the experiences they had gone through, and the intimacy they shared, that stupid hood had stuck on him, and she couldn't reconcile a statement of trust when that obstacle remained. So she decided to settle the matter once and for all.

"What are you really hiding underneath that?" She gestured to the offending garment, leveling her finger at it like an accuser condemns a criminal.

"We had gotten along so well without you bringing up that issue."

"I had assumed some kind of unsightly injury, or deformity, but you should know me by now, Jax." Her voice was steady, ready to accept whatever she would find, but she would not take another refusal.

"It's nothing of the sort," he dismissed. "Like I said, I trust you - it actually took me a while to make up my mind about it, but I'd be a fool not to, considering where we are now. You should prepare yourself," he warned, reaching for the lapel of his robes.

She had considered herself ready for years. Ready to take on the trials and tribulations which the League presented, ready to get past every creature the architect had sent to take them down, ready to face all her fears and nightmares when they resurfaced to haunt her.

Nothing could prepare her for his true face.

And Irelia could not look away, her eyes riveted to the otherworldly spectacle which looked back at her.

* * *

"Subject #00782 delivered to the room from docking station."

"Confirming reception. Subject's body in critical condition, burn marks all over upper arms. Chest is heavily bruised. A deep cut ranging from upper thigh to just below the kneecap."

"All categorized as non-lethal injuries. Requesting Protocol H be administered to subject at once."

"Pending Overseer approval."

"..."

"Granted. Preliminary laser scans initiated."

"You may need to remove the mask to complete the retinal analysis."

"Affirmative. Facial recognition process completed. Retinal aspects saved, currently duplicating. Oracle vision implemented. Depth perception parameters reinstated, increased by a magnitude of 2.25."

"What will you do with the shadows?"

"..."

"Central Command? Are you still there?"

"Teleportation processes...undergoing some difficulty. Will need to reassess the swap dynamic in the cross-dimensional - BZZT"

"Command? What's going on over there?"

"BZZT… never told us they were alive! BZZT -"

_Static fills the transmission for several seconds. A scream is heard, followed by the sound of scuffling and another louder scream as some kind of blade tears through skin._

"Command? Do you copy?"

"..."

"..."

"PROJECT Prototype finalized."

* * *

**A/N: **Look at that new PROJECT skin trailer and tell me that isn't hype.

Alright. Now we're done. I do not claim to be an expert in anything Chinese and I made up all the names - if you want actual Ionian/Chinese background go check out Caccus' _Ionian Origins: Black Blades of the Blood Moon, _an excellent story in its own right.

In this author note I wanted to talk about my thought process as I went into writing Trinity. Which, I have to confess, was basically nothing at the start. The story used to be called Trinity Force just because it was going to be about Jax and Irelia interacting cause I thought it would be interesting to see what they thought of each other's fighting styles (I've picked up Jax and he was quite easy to get into since I played a ton of Irelia). The first chapter barely brings in any conflict and I fear that might not have attracted a lot of readers if they're anything like me. I drop stories easily, not because I wouldn't be interested, but because I have a short attention span when it comes to fanfiction.

The bar scene at Gragas' is just a generic plot device to bring about any sort of conflict I could think of and the first thing was "hey, let's blow it up and make the story super dark all of a sudden." That was good, but then I had to figure out who would actually be behind it and what their motivations would be. I didn't want another story about the Void or Noxus being evil, so I thought around for a bit, and decided wouldn't it be great to have a story with Irelia as the protagonist fight against Morello? And thus the nerfing concept came through. For anyone curious, here's the list of nerfs which Riot actually issued out corresponding with characters in the story:

Syndra - Dark Sphere damage reduced and hitbox on Scatter the Weak 'stricter' (5.1)

Sona - Base movement speed reduced and Hymn of Valor's Staccato damaged lowered (5.1)

Veigar - Event Horizon now has a 0.75 second delay (5.4)

Janna - Tailwind passive changed to only give allies a speed boost when they move towards Janna (5.4). She's still OP as hell I'm repping that 64% win rate ez game

Azir - Conquering Sands base damage reduced. Soldier range on Arise! changed from 400 to 325 (5.3).

Xerath - Maximum stun duration on Shocking Orb lowered from 2.25 to 1.75 seconds (5.4)

Nidalee - Base health and health per level lowered (5.7); damage on Javelin Toss lowered (5.15)

Jarvan IV - Passive armor from Demacian Standard removed (5.4). I'm still salty about this because my jungle clear is now less than stellar.

Akali - Crescent Slash no longer triggers Mark of the Assassin's secondary damage. Shadow Dance range lowered. (5.2)

Sejuani - % max health damage on Flail of the Northern Winds reduced. By a lot. (5.6, 5.10)

Zed - Base attack speed and attack speed growth lowered. Death Mark now has a 1 second cooldown before it can be used to swap back to the original shadow (5.9)

I was hesitant to touch upon nerfs towards other new champions because, well, they were newly released during the making of the story. Azir was an exception because he played a pivotal role in the plot though.

The story floundered around with nothing really happening until Chapter 8, where they fight the Dreamweaver. I had no idea what I was doing really and trying to make a bunch of intrigue with Jax and Twisted Fate having a lot of background information while researching up the champions and trying to find out which would be good targets for Myrelos and the Deeper Void creatures to target. The addition of Zed into the mix was quite a gamble, although I'm glad he ended up with a not so insignificant side story.

I reread Chapter 9 where Jax and Zed head over to Piltover and it's a lot less serious than the last chapters of Trinity. Whoops. It was still in its comical stage then, with the drinking contest between them and it's laughable to see the change in mood as the story progresses. The Delta Syndicate is basically an extension of Myrelos' network, if you couldn't tell, operating under the guise of being an organization bent on anarchy when really they were looking to target Janna the whole time. I don't know what I was thinking with the Zeta Maze, I just needed an environment where Zed could nearly go insane.

I think my best chapter was honestly the one where they fight the Drakorazer up on Mount Targon, mostly because of Leona's epic story about the past of the Solari and Lunari. It inspired me to write some more background to the world.

I do regret that Xerath and Renekton didn't actually do anything. It was confusing trying to work around that plot point where they were supposed to meet Azir, but not actually because the real villain is the Institute here and I didn't want them to fight each other, so I thought of using that illusion tactic and it sort of worked out. Rammus is the best character in this story by far, unfortunately he's chilling in Shurima after the battle.

Malzahar and Kassadin not at each others' throats might be an interaction I glossed over too conveniently. I try to justify it with the fact that they both realize that the Deeper Void creatures are a much more potent threat than stuff like Kog'Maw (and when you get down to it champs like Cho and Kog and Vel are downright hilarious, Kha'Zix is the only one who seems like a real threat). But yeah, that could've used some more background and not just "HEY I'M MALZAHAR AND HERE'S STUFF YOU SHOULD KNOW"

I had absolutely no plan for Jax before I realized that the whole point of the story is to figure out who he is, why he's in the Institute, why is he such a badass, and what is his relation to Myrelos. In the final chapters I try to write about that but the concept was basically neglected for the first half of the story, especially since it's told from Irelia's perspective. Also I wasn't originally going to buy into that whole Darkin origin thing but in the final chapter flashbacks he straight up runs into Aatrox. It has repercussions on his character but it's not what you think! This is why making a plot outline is so important - I felt there were no really big twists besides when I killed off random champs. In the same manner I wasn't confident about Irelia's character growth during the first half of the story but it was easier to write down her thoughts when she's a point of view character and I could create this persona of a girl who was scarred by losing everyone she loved and making sure she wouldn't be weak so the same thing wouldn't happen with Jax.

Ezreal's character got a lot deeper than I expected, too. He's the guy with the good intentions that really wants to do well but he's just not as skilled as the main heroes but in Chapter 26 he finally gets some more backstory about how he befriended Garen and they had a brotherly relation until the latter's untimely death. Rest in peace.

I don't think I explored Janna too much even though she basically had the fourth most screen time. She differs from doting mother support figure to flirtatious blonde and there always seems to be hints of Ezreal x Janna but it's not the intention. I don't know what kind of guy Janna would go well with. Most of the canon stuff (or whatever would make a lot of sense) doesn't interest me.

A fun fact: Twisted Fate/Kassadin/Vayne/Fiora show up for the first battle, and then pretty much leave the story until the end. It ended up being a pretty cool parallel, but it makes no sense for them to be doing nothing while Irelia and Jax are out defeating monsters all over the continent. Probably a mistake by me but I didn't really want Fiora to be part of the main group at least, it'd show some author bias because they are literally my three favorite top laners.

Can't say a lot about Zed. He was supposed to be the anti-hero who undergoes a drastic personality change but in the end wasn't really bad, but he's still kind of a murderous ninja bent on destroying the Kinkou, and basically he was just MIA for half the story and still is. Only Kalista knows what's up with him and all I can tell you is that their work is not yet finished.

That's the behind-the-scenes look. There was supposed to be an arc where they went to Ionia and that was why the Kinkou were thrown in at the end, cause originally the gang + Zed would all congregate in Ionia and there they would find the truth, but I decided to condense that into simply heading for the Institute. All the unfinished business in Chapter 27 and the Epilogue just screams sequel, although I might get around to working on Dauntless first, or even just a whole new story because I want to write about other characters now lol. Jax was probably the most fun character to write, second probably being Fiora because endgame Fiora was just a complete badass and third is a tie between Rammus and Rengar. Heh.

The Ahri in the epilogue is something I've always wanted to write - inquisitive, seriously philosophical, brooding, and not at all like the playful flirty type you typically see, although you can still make out traces of her usual personality. The peach she was eating is a direct reference to the story _The Peach Tree_.

This was supposed to be a super profound author's note but in the end it just ended up being a bunch of rambling. I do wonder what you guys think of the actual plot development because in my eyes it needed some work. Feel free to ask me any other questions you had, if it's not too related to plot points that are kept ambiguous to the readers I'll do my best to answer them. Thanks again to everyone for keeping up with me, and a special shoutout to MidsummerMoonlight99 - your reviews every chapter since like 13 really helped me get the motivation I needed to continue on. I'll be around to write more, you can count on that.

Until next time!


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